


klaine advent drabble challenge 2017 masterpost

by Pterodactyl



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine Advent 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 12:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12888054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: all the fic written for klaine advent drabble challenge 2017!! will be updated daily (hopefully) until complete!





	1. attachment

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys guess what! i'm back on my bullshit of writing fics based around one word and tenuously connecting it to the actual prompt!!!!!! ENJOY  
> the video that blaine watched that caused this frenzy of organisation is [this one](https://www.facebook.com/officialgoodful/videos/1713563012047491/)  
> thank you to jules and natalie for discussing, at length, how blaine would fucking love these life hack/upcycling videos. if you wanna join in follow me @pumpkinkurt on twitter!

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” Kurt says for the fourth time.

Blaine, focused on laying neat lines of glue on the wood rods on the bottom of their biggest drawer, huffs quietly.

“Honey, our kitchen is really not that messy -”

“Kurt,” Blaine says evenly, “Yesterday I found a box of dumplings that mistakenly got put in the tupperware drawer instead of the fridge.”

“Oh, really?” Kurt perks up, “What kind?”

“I couldn’t tell before I scraped them into the trash, they’d been there for at least a month,” Blaine’s hair is held back off his face by one of Kurt’s old scarves, but one curl has freed itself and is hanging over his forehead, “I’ve been wanting to do this for months, and we finally have a free weekend. Hand me the pegboard?”

Kurt does as he’s asked. “But really? Redoing the whole kitchen?”

“It’s not like I’m tearing it out and replacing everything with marble, babe,” Blaine lowers it gently into the drawer, making sure the glue on top of the rods doesn’t get smeared, “I’m just neatening things up. So next time you make dumplings  _ we _ are the ones who eat them, not whatever bacteria live in our drawers. Okay, give that five minutes and while we wait I’ll start putting the pegs in.”

“Wh - when did you make all these?” Kurt watches, completely baffled, as Blaine empties a small bag of brightly painted wooden pegs onto the kitchen floor and begins sorting them by colour, “And paint them?”

“When you were working late last week,” Blaine says, “What do you think, rainbow or random colours?”

“Rainbow,” Kurt says, “And why do you have a bunch of plastic file folders?”

“So we can organise under the sink, I don’t even want to think about how long some of that cleaning stuff has been there. Probably through the last three tenants.” Blaine starts placing the pegs in at even spacing, pausing to pile in empty tupperwares and add the corresponding size lids next to them. “Are you really telling me that you don’t want me to organise all three of our drawers like this?”

Now Kurt’s watching him carefully place all the pegs in rainbow order, he’s actually understanding why Blaine hauled them both out of bed at 8 that morning instead of letting them spend their lazy Saturdays how they usually do.

“Okay, you got me,” he shuffles up next to his husband and takes a handful of pegs, spacing them wide enough to fit their biggest tupperwares, “What’s next?”

Blaine’s face brightens. “We’re doing the same with the next drawer, I want to organise all the attachments for your hand blender because I couldn’t find the mince one when I wanted to make pesto a couple weeks ago. Then I want to clean and organise the cupboard under the kitchen sink, sort through the fridge, do a date check on all the perishables in the pantry, and then maybe we’ll stop and re-evaluate before we de-ice and organise the freezer.”

Kurt mutters, “You know I find it super hot when you micromanage me, right?”

Blaine narrows his eyes, hand tightening around his pastel orange dowel, and says, “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not!” Kurt leans into his husband’s side, nuzzling his face, “You know I’m not.”

“You micromanage me way more than I micromanage you!”

“Yeah, and I know you think it’s hot when I -”

Blaine puts his hand firmly over Kurt’s mouth. “We are  _ working _ .”

“What, I can’t attempt seduction in this -” Kurt makes a sweeping gesture at the sea of dowels and tupperwares around them, “- this… Buzzfeed Nifty paradise. This Pinterest Mom haven. This -”

Blaine kisses him to make him be quiet.


	2. bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of last year's fill for charm! witch blaine's boyfriend pays him a visit. read the original [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720611/chapters/20041072)

Blaine’s locking up for the night, the mop and bucket following closely behind him as he wipes tables and finishes his up his charms for the succulent garden he’s trying to grow on the windowsill. The rest of the shop is already sparkling, but a stubborn businessman who didn’t seem to understand that closed means  _ closed _ had held up his chance to clear the floor by half an hour, to the point where he told Jane to go home because he could tell he’d be staying late after this asshole finished his call and tried to get Blaine to make him another macchiato, twenty minutes after Blaine cleaned the entire coffee machine.

So now he’s winding down, trying to let the frustration ebb out of him as he wipes away the crumbs and leaves them on the floor for the mop. Usually music would be playing, but right now silence is more of a balm on his frayed nerves.

Until he hears someone knock on the window.

Huffing, Blaine closes his eyes and counts to three before pitching his voice three octaves higher and saying sweetly, “We’re closed!”

The knock comes again, and he turns, ready to break out his painfully wide customer service smile, and then he sees who’s at the door.

Kurt, holding a pot containing a rather sad looking orchid, knocks one more time.

“Kurt!” Blaine flings his cloth at the counter, hops over the mop and bucket, and flings himself into his boyfriend’s arms, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Kurt laughs, “Jane texted me about the businessman who wouldn’t leave, I figured you might appreciate a pick-me-up.”

“Absolutely,” Blaine tilts his face up for a kiss, humming softly as Kurt cups his face gently. “And the flower?”

“What, I can’t bring my boyfriend a gift?” Kurt’s smile now turns sheepish, “Especially if it’s an orchid that I promised I’d water for my boss and I forgot and she’s coming back in a couple days and I need help resuscitating the poor baby?”

Blaine laughs, taking the pot from him. “I’ll put it between the African Violets and put a growth spell on it. Should be flourishing in a few days.”

“You are a lifesaver,” Kurt murmurs, “And, as a thank you, I brought you this.”

He holds out a plastic bag and Blaine catches the smell of Indian food. “Oh, you didn’t.”

“From your favourite place,” Kurt smiles, “Plus I got extra naan for you.”

Blaine groans, letting his head fall against Kurt’s chest. “That’s exactly what I needed today.”

Kurt’s arms wrap around his waist and he starts to sway them from side to side. “You know, every time I see you start that mop going I think  _ how the hell did I end up dating a Disney prince? _ ”

Blaine laughs. “I’m not a prince.”

“I disagree,” Kurt lays his head against the top of Blaine’s head, even though he’ll end up with a jaw covered in gel, “You’re out-of-this-world beautiful, kind, funny -”

“Oh,  _ stop _ ,” Blaine blushes, “You’re going to ruin my concentration and I’ll spill water all over the floor.”

Kurt kisses him on the cheek and then reaches out to pause the mop as it goes over the same spot over and over. “C’mon. I’ll help clean up and then we can head up to your apartment.”

Blaine watches him roll up his sleeves, apparently unworried about what the dirty bucket of water might do to his undoubtedly expensive shirt, and thinks to himself,  _ pretty sure I’m the one who ended up dating a prince. _


	3. collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be angst, but, you know. you know! sometimes this is how it be.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this to me,” Kurt whispers, “I thought you loved me.”

“I do, Kurt,” Blaine reaches out and covers Kurt’s hand with his own, squeezing it tight and trying to convey how sincere he is, “You know I do.”

“You expect me to believe that? With the way you’re treating me?”

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice catches, “Kurt, I had no choice. I had to -”

“ _ That block? _ ” Kurt gestures wildly at the only block left at the bottom of the jenga tower, “You’re such an ass!”

“I’m just playing the game!” Blaine is desperately trying not to burst out laughing, “I didn’t complain when you unbuttoned your shirt every time it was my turn last time we played Scrabble.”

“It was  _ hot _ .”

“Kurt, it was November,” Blaine gestures for Kurt to try and extract a block without toppling the whole thing, “Go on. Try it.”

Kurt grits his teeth, too proud and stubborn to admit defeat. “I’m thinking.”

“Jenga isn’t a thinking game, Kurt, you just have to -”

“I’m  _ thinking! _ ”

Kurt’s brows are furrowed, shoulders hunched as he glares at their precarious tower, balancing on the edge of catastrophe. Blaine crosses one leg over the other neatly, trying not to smirk. “If you wait more than three minutes I automatically win, remember?”

“I’m strategizing, just give me a minute.”

“You’re stalling is what you’re doing,” Blaine tilts his chin up and starts undoing his bowtie, “There’s no strategizing in Jenga.”

“Not if you’re a loser,” Kurt mutters, and Blaine rolls his eyes, watching as Kurt reaches forward, trying to gently edge a corner block out. He’s holding his breath, blue eyes narrowed as he gently works the block back and forth, and for half a second Blaine actually thinks Kurt might break his fifteen game losing streak.

And then his husband sneezes, his hands jerking, and the tower collapses onto their glass coffee table so loudly it wakes their cat from her nap in a sunspot.

“ _ Oh! _ ” Blaine claps, delighted, “And Blaine wins another one!”

“Fuck!” Kurt stares at his hands as if they’ve betrayed him, “I was so close!”

“Nearly made it, babe,” Blaine tosses his bowtie over the arm of the couch and undoes the first button of his polo, “You’re improving, for sure.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Kurt huffs, “I know you’re cheating somehow.”

“Oh yeah?” Blaine leans back against the couch and tilts his head, “How ‘bout you -”

“Whatever you’re going to say, stop,” Kurt’s already walking on his knees around the edge of the coffee table, his lips pulled up into a half-smile, “I know you’re gunning for mid Sunday couch sex, Blaine.”

Blaine bats his eyelids coyly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re such a tease,” Kurt straddles his lap, “And you’re  _ insufferable _ when you win.”

“I can’t help how good I am at board games,” Blaine tries to lean up into a kiss but Kurt keeps him pinned down with his weight across Blaine’s thighs. “You’re a piece of work, Blaine Hummel.”

“Yeah,” Blaine grins, “But you love me.”

“Even when you beat me at Jenga,” Kurt mumbles, and finally dips his head so Blaine can kiss him.


	4. drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt goes on a bad date, and meets a cute stranger.

“Hey there.”

Kurt looks up from his phone at the stunningly good looking stranger settling onto the bar stool next to him. “Excuse me?”

The stranger gives him a charming and extremely beautiful smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh,” Kurt glances over his shoulder, “Uh…”

“Or a dance?” he smiles wider, “Either one.”

“Buy me a dance?” Kurt arches an eyebrow, “I’m not that kind of guy.”

The stranger blushes. “I didn’t mean -”

“And I’m waiting on someone,” Kurt says, “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

The stranger looks disappointed, but he slides off the barstool with a gracious nod and walks away. Kurt does check out his ass as he goes, but he’s still on a date, so he turns back to his phone, checks it again, and then decides to go check on the model who said he was going to the bathroom twenty minutes ago and has yet to come back.

“Paul?” he calls, pushing open the door to the men’s room, tucking his nose into his scarf to avoid the smell, “Are you in here?”

Half of the stalls are in use, but under the second to last one Kurt sees a familiar pair of red and brown oxfords.

“Paul?” Kurt touches the door and finds it unlocked, so he keeps pushing, “Are you oka -”

His words stick in his throat as Paul and the guy with badly bleached hair on his knees in the stall with him both scramble to cover up, the one Kurt doesn’t know at least having the decency to look ashamed as he stumbles to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Kurt feels red rise on his cheeks as he realises what’s going on, “Who is that?”

“Who are  _ you? _ ” Bleached Hair guy says, and Kurt plants his hands on his hips. “I’m the person he’s on a date with.”

“Whoa,” Bleached Hair turns to Paul, “Your grindr said nothing about a boyfriend.”

“You were on  _ grindr? _ ” Kurt yelps, “That’s why you were on your phone?”

Paul looks slightly embarrassed as he tucks himself back into his pants. “Look, you seem like a really nice guy, but you’re just a little -”

“A little  _ what? _ ”

“A little desperate!” Paul holds up his hands, “I’m not looking for baggage, I just want to have some fun.”

Shame makes a lump grow in Kurt’s throat and he jabs his finger furiously at Paul’s chest. “You are  _ such _ an asshole.”

“Listen, don’t take it personal -”

“You can take your photoshopped abs and shove them up your ass,” Kurt snaps, shoving him back against the wall, “You  _ dick _ .”

He turns on his heel and storms past the onlookers and out of the bathroom before any of them can see the tears in his eyes.

By the time he makes it back to his seat at the bar, his eyesight is blurry and there are tears dripping off his chin. He tries to wipe his eyes covertly as he gathers his things, but the couple next to him give him an odd look as he tears off the scarf that Mercedes told him brought out his eyes and stuffs it into his bag.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Kurt manages to hold it together as he makes eye contact with the attractive stranger from earlier. Inhaling shakily, he shoulders his bag and starts leafing through his wallet to pay for his drink, seeing as Paul probably won’t. “Just fine.”

“Are you sure?” the stranger says, “You look upset.”

Kurt’s breath explodes out of him in a sob and he sniffs hard, rubbing his eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

The stranger doesn’t say anything, but a second later he offers out a square of blue fabric.

“It’s clean,” he says, tucking the handkerchief - monogrammed in one corner with  _ B.D.A. _ \- into Kurt’s hand.

Kurt wipes his eyes, then blows his nose and blinks several time to clear his vision. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” the stranger says, “I’m Blaine. Do you want that drink?”

Kurt laughs. “Do I look that bad?”

“No, no, I just… you seem like you could use one.”

“ _ That  _ bad?”

Blaine shakes his head, eyes wide as he gestures frantically. “I’m not trying to - I didn’t -”

He’s painfully sincere, and Kurt can’t help it, he has to reassure him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just ready to go home.”

“Are you okay though?” Blaine looks genuinely concerned, “The guy you were with, he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“My ego is the only thing injured,” Kurt says, wiping his eyes again.

Blaine looks at him with these big, honey-coloured, concerned eyes, and he caves.

“He went to hook up with some guy in the bathroom,” Kurt traces his finger along the edge of his glass, “And I’m sat here like an idiot.”

“He stood you up?” Blaine’s eyes get even rounder, if that’s even possible.

“I was too desperate, apparently,” Kurt says, because if he’s going to spill his soul to a stranger he might as well go all the way.

“Well, if it helps, it took me half an hour to work up the courage to talk to you,” Blaine says, “Your Marc Jacobs scarf was especially terrifying.”

Kurt laughs and it makes Blaine laugh too, a high-pitched squeaky giggle. “Seriously, when you told me to take a hike I told myself,  _ that’s what you get when you try to talk to the hottest guy in the bar. _ ”

Kurt actually chokes on his daiquiri, and it nearly comes out of his nose. “You’re a real charmer, has anyone ever told you that?”

Blaine gives him another one of those knee-trembling heart-pounding smiles, but it’s accompanied with an edge of bashfulness that makes Kurt’s stomach flip. “Once or twice.”

“I bet you get all the guys,” Kurt takes another sip of his drink, and Blaine shakes his head. “Usually I get told I’m too eager, actually.”

“Seriously?” Kurt can’t imagine anyone looking at this ridiculously sweet face and telling him to back off. Just the few compliments he’s gotten have his battered ego starting to mend.

Blaine shrugs with a smile that says  _ it is how it is. _ “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll let you get home.”

“No, wait,” Kurt reaches out and catches his hand, “I - hate bars, do you want to get out of here and get a coffee somewhere? Talk where we can actually hear each other?”

Blaine’s eyes light up. “I would love that.”

They walk out of the bar together, and never look back.


	5. example

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hungover kurt, meet your hugely entertained husband.

“This, I think,” Blaine says from across the room, “is what the Ancient Greeks were imagining when they came up with the word ‘hubris’.”

Kurt moans, burying his head in his pillow. “ _ Please. _ Quieter. My brain is going to fall out.”

“As hungover as you are, I don’t think that’s likely,” Blaine’s amusement is palpable, “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

The thought of food makes Kurt’s stomach lurch. “ _ No _ .”

“You need to hydrate, sweetie,” he feels Blaine’s hand on his back, “C’mon. I got a big glass of Gatorade with your name on it.”

Grimacing, Kurt pushes up on one elbow and cracks open an eye. The light coming through the window makes his headache spike in intensity and he whines slightly pathetically, trying to locate the glass of sweet, sweet Gatorade.

And then he hears an extremely familiar shutter noise.

Squinting, Kurt refocuses on the blurry figure of his husband. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Maybe,” Blaine says, followed by the equally as familiar noise of the Polaroid printing out the snapshot.

Groaning, Kurt faceplants back into his pillow. “Go ahead,” he flings his arm out, “Make an example of me on Twitter.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he feels the bed dip as Blaine settles beside him, “I was only going to tape it to the tequila bottle so next time Santana ropes you into drowning her sorrows you’re reminded of what happens the morning after.”

Kurt rolls onto his side and finds the glass of Gatorade in front of his nose. “That’s probably not a bad idea,” he mumbles as Blaine presses two Tylenol into his hand, “Even if this is her third breakup in three months.”

“Next time she’s that upset, dig into the frozen yoghurt instead,” Blaine takes the glass from him once he’s done and leans down to kiss his forehead, “And I am taping that photo to the tequila.”

“I don’t even think there’s any left,” Kurt says, shutting his eyes again, “Is Santana okay?”

“Mercedes poured her into a cab a half hour ago with the other half of this bottle of Gatorade,” Blaine’s cool palm rests on his forehead, “You gonna be okay if I run down to the store for crackers?”

“Yeah,” Kurt mumbles, already half asleep, “Thank you.”

“In sickness and in hangovers, remember?” Blaine squeezes his shoulder, “Your phone’s by the bed, call me if you need me.”

“I will,” Blaine’s lips brush his cheek, and the last thing Kurt hears before slipping back into sleep is “I love you.”


	6. fraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine angst is in the meta at the moment. that's all i have to say.

Blaine always thought that soulmates were supposed to be two halves of one whole. Two parts split away from each other and tasked to find each other again. He had told himself that when he met his soulmate he would be happier than he could be alone, that everything would be perfect. It would be like seeing in colour for the first time. Everything would suddenly make sense.

And he met Kurt, and for a while it was true. Everything  _ was  _ better. He  _ was _ happier. Life was more vibrant.

And then they broke up, and he told himself he had ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. That it was all his fault. He had lost his soulmate, and he was going to spend the rest of his life less than whole, and he had done it to himself.

But he got a second chance, and life was even more beautiful knowing what he might have lost. Kurt was his fiancé. They were going to get married and spend the rest of their lives together, and life would be perfect.

Except he wasn’t perfect. And Kurt didn’t want to marry him.

And this time it wasn’t something Blaine had done, it was just him. Just him not being good enough, he told himself, and this time there was no chance at redemption because even he didn’t know exactly what he did wrong. He asked himself every night,  _ obsessed  _ over it, was he too clingy? Not attached enough? Did he not tell Kurt he loved him often enough? Or too often? Was it something about how he looked? How he behaved? His smile? His laugh? Every argument they ever had he went over in his head with a fine toothed comb. Looking in the mirror became opportunity to list every imperfection. It grew and grew until it overtook every aspect of his life. Until NYADA kicked him out and he stopped couch surfing because facing any of Kurt’s friends made him sick and, until, filled to the brim with shame, he called his mom to come get him.

She tried to get him to talk, but he couldn’t. And it was after a month of sleeping thirteen hours a day and crying the other eleven, barely eating, barely doing anything, that his mother marched him into a therapist’s office and told him that if he didn’t talk to someone,  _ anyone _ , she would have to get his father involved.

Several sessions later, when he told the therapist, very quietly, that he had screwed up the one good thing that had ever happened to him, that his soulmate was gone, and he would be alone and a fraction of a whole for the rest of his life.

She sat forward in her chair, and she asked him why he couldn’t be whole by himself.

Blaine sat in his room that night and played a song on his keyboard for the first time in months.

It was hard, but he made himself whole again. Went back to the Warblers, worked his ass off to make them into the group he knew they could be. Made himself into a person he was proud of. Who tried not to base his self worth on what others thought of him. He fought and scratched and clawed his way back up after every bad day, every adjustment in his medication that sent his head spinning, every self condemning thought. 

And now he’s lying in bed with his husband. Kurt’s fast asleep right next to him, the hand with the band that matches his lying on Blaine’s chest. Blaine rolls over, staring with wide eyes at the man that he  _ is _ going to spend the rest of his life with.

Gently, he lifts a hand to touch Kurt’s jaw, but his  _ husband _ stirs, yawns, and opens his eyes.

“Hey,” Blaine says softly, “Go back to sleep.”

Kurt groans. “Why’re you awake? Did you sleep at all?”

Blaine swallows. “I was thinking.”

Kurt mirrors him, moving onto his side and cushioning his head on his folded arm. “About what?”

“About us,” Blaine’s voice sticks in his throat, “About me.”

Kurt reaches out and cups Blaine’s face. “About you?”

“About the last year,” Blaine lets out a shaky breath, “About… all the things we’ve been through.”

Kurt’s thumb brushes over his cheekbone. “Good things or bad things?”

Blaine laughs. “Everything.”

Kurt nods. “Good thoughts?”

“Good now,” Blaine says, “They’re good now.”

“I love you,” Kurt says, “You know that?”

“I know,” Blaine nods, feeling a lump grow in his throat, “I know that.”

“But you’re a good man,” Kurt says, “You’re such a good man, Blaine. You’re amazing. You’re so strong.”

Blaine nods again, smiling. “I grew up.”

“We both did,” Kurt wriggles closer, so they’re nose to nose, “And I’m so proud of the men that we grew into, Blaine.”

Blaine shuts his eyes tight, feeling tears drip down his cheeks, and whispers, “Me too.”

“And I’m so proud to call myself your husband,” Kurt’s forehead presses against his, “I’m so happy, Blaine.”

“Me too,” Blaine repeats, as Kurt’s arms wrap around him, “I love you, Kurt.”

And hearing that from Kurt, it’s not like everything will be okay forever. It’s not like he’s whole again, because he’s  _ been _ whole for months. He knows he’s a good person. Life is vibrant, despite him losing Kurt for a while. He knows that he will be okay.

And he knows that Kurt is too. They’re not two halves of the same whole, they’re two wholes that can come together and make something amazing. And they have. And they will.

And that knowledge is the most beautiful thing in the world.


	7. genuine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> santana and mercedes get married.

“This is the realest smile I think I’ve ever seen on Santana’s face,” Blaine says softly, his head laid on Kurt’s shoulder as the two newlyweds waltz across the dancefloor, “She looks beautiful.”

“She really does,” Kurt says, trying extremely hard not to cry. He had sobbed (quietly, and mostly into Blaine’s handkerchief) through the ceremony, but thanks to Blaine’s wedding kit (redness reducing eyedrops, undereye cream and a discreet concealer) managed to compose himself for the wedding party photos. But now, watching his two best friends slow dance, he’s rapidly losing his composure.

“Are you okay?” Blaine lifts his head, “Are you crying again?”

“No,” Kurt says, even as tears start to streak down his face.

“Oh, sweetie,” Blaine sits up, “Why are you so upset?”

“I just -” Kurt gestures at the dancefloor, and then at the band, and then at Mercedes and Santana as the latter twirls in her ridiculously beautiful white pantsuit, “I’m just - so -  _ happy _ -”

He dabs at his eyes again, sniffling. On his other side, Tina reaches out and takes his spare hand, whispering into his ear, “ _ You’re crying more than their moms. _ ”

“ _S_ _ hut up _ ,” Kurt whispers back, accepting the tissue that Blaine hands him as the first dance comes to an end and Mercedes and Santana share a kiss, “ _ I have to sing in a minute! _ ”

“Come on,” Blaine tugs him to his feet, and pauses for a second as long as they’re out of the spotlight to wipe Kurt’s eyes and kiss him on the cheek. “Take a deep breath,” he says, looking into Kurt’s eyes, “We’re gonna nail this.”

Still holding his hand, he leads them around the back of the tables and up onto the stage. As instructed, Kurt breathes in deeply, holds it for a moment, and then steps up to the microphone as Blaine picks up the guitar.

“Hi there everyone,” he says nervously, “As most of you probably know, I’m Kurt, and this is my husband, Blaine,” he gestures to Blaine, who waves, smiling.

“I’ve known Mercedes and Santana since I was fifteen,” Kurt says, starting to pick up steam, “And though ‘Cedes and I started out as friends, it took a little while for me to break through Santana’s thick, thick, cheerleader-enforced shell.”

Santana throws her head back in a laugh, and Kurt grins too. “But once I did, I found myself a fast friend, a staunch defendant, and someone who would always, always stop me from going out if she thought my outfit was anything less than stellar.” He glances at Blaine, who nods.

“Once upon a time, Blaine and I took it upon ourselves to make her feel better about something by singing to her a song we often sang to each other,” he reaches out for Blaine’s hand and squeezes it, “Perfect, by Pink. But -” he hastily moves on as Santana starts to open her mouth “- Santana told me several years ago that if I ever sang that song to her again, she would strangle me with either a bowtie or a neckerchief, depending on whichever was closer.”

There’s laughter from the audience, and Santana gives him that oh-so-familiar smug smirk. Kurt grins back, knowing she’s absolutely going to tease him endlessly about what he’s going to say next.

“So, instead, we decided that we would sing a different song, still one that Blaine and I often sing to each other, but one that is far more suited to a wedding where kids are in attendance, and also one that happens to share a title with the song we sang to her in my senior year.”

He steps back, and Blaine steps forward. 

“This is dedicated to two of the strongest, most intelligent, and most loving women we know,” he says eyes, shining with tears. Kurt makes a mental note to slip him the pack of tissues in his pocket. “I am so happy for you two. Also, please don’t throw anything at me, Santana, I know you hate Ed Sheeran.”

Santana laughs again, and Blaine starts to strum the opening to Perfect, and Kurt looks at the beautiful, genuine, incredibly happy smile on her face and opens his mouth to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jay mcmeatymeat and jules homoaesthetics got me fucked up on sancedes, so, here you go.


	8. health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i could have written angst here but i did that a couple chapters ago so....here's some really incomprehensible overwatch au.

“ _ Mercy, why you no heal me? _ ”

Kurt grits his teeth as the asshole who instalocked Genji and refused to switch nearly blows his mic out yelling. “KILLER9697” is down about three HP, and Kurt is solo healing two tanks and a Tracer who keeps dashing into the enemy McCree’s flashbang.

“ _ MERCY! I NEED HEALS! _ ”

“Okay, okay!” Kurt unmutes his mic and reluctantly abandons the half health Reinhardt to heal the Genji who is flinging shurikens nonstop into the back of his head. While his back is turned, he hears the familiar sound of Reinhardt charging through the choke and onto point B of Volskaya Industries.

“Shit,” he mutters, spinning his character just in time to see the greyed-out figure of Reinhardt’s dead body spiral off into the atmosphere as the enemy Bastion shreds him to bits.

“ _ Mercy, can you rez? _ ” the Reinhardt whines through voice chat.

Kurt pulls up the enemy team’s comp. A Bastion and Widow basically guarantee that if he tries to Guardian Angel in he’ll either get headshotted or go the same way as Reinhardt, or, BrutalCommander as their battletag reads. Sighing, he mutters, “No,” and turns to fly back to the D.Va.

“ _ MERCY! REZ ME! _ ”

“I said no!” Kurt says again, even though he muted his mic after agreeing to heal the irritating Genji.

_ “MERCY! FUCKING REZ ALREADY!” _

“Oh my god,” Kurt mutters, unmuting his mic and hitting his press-to-talk button. “If you want rez, quit trickling in.”

“ _ Is that a grill? _ ” the person playing Soldier: 76 asks.

Kurt sighs. This is why he hates using voice chat.

_ My teleporter is almost ready to deploy _ , their Symmetra says, and the idiot playing Genji snorts. “ _ Why would we need a teleporter? We’re on attack, you dumb idiot. _ ”

“ _ We don’t need a Symmetra _ ,” BrutalCommander chimes in, “ _ Can you switch to something useful? _ ”

Kurt searches for Symmetra’s silhouette on the screen, and eventually sees her far behind enemy lines. By the size of her icon and how little she’s moving, she must be right by the enemy spawn.

“ _ What a fucking idiot _ ,” KILLER9697 says, “ _ Anyone who plays Sym in ranked is throwing. _ ”

Kurt just rolls his eyes, readying himself to move in behind their Rein as he tramps back from spawn. Symmetra is still behind enemy lines, and Kurt does sort of wonder why on earth she’s back there, doing absolutely nothing.

And then their Rein drops his shield and Kurt gets headshotted by the enemy widow.

“Oh my  _ god! _ ” he yells, nearly flinging his mouse across the room, “What the fuck?”

The killcam shows Rein charging in again, and predictably, getting killed by the Bastion.

By the time he respawns, Sym’s teleporter is up, and Kurt hops through it just to limit the amount of time it’ll take him to get back to his team. They have just over a minute left on the clock to get another fifty percent on the point, and with the way his team is playing, this is gonna be the game that Kurt falls back down into platinum.

The teleporter spits him out in the room adjacent to the enemy team’s spawn, and there, standing right in front of him, is their Symmetra.

_ Hello _ , she says and Kurt sighs, hits  _ C _ to say hi back. Symmetra crouches several times, then says hi again.

“Oh my god, is this guy serious?” Kurt asks himself, as the Symmetra continues to crouch up and down in front of him. Reluctantly, Kurt hits shift a couple times, and the Symmetra emotes briefly, then, still crouched, calls out to the team.

_ Group up here _ , Symmetra says.

“Ah,” Kurt says out loud, finally understanding what the hell this guy wants. With the teleporter here, and the Bastion-Orisa-Mercy combo set up by the choke, all the enemy team has is a Widow up top, with a Mei and Roadhog roaming wherever they like. With a quick check, Kurt notes that their Soldier and their Rein both have ultimates.

“This guy’s a genius,” he mutters, joining the Symmetra in spamming  _ group up _ into teamchat.

“ _ Oh my god, shut up! _ ” the Genji snaps, “ _ Mercy, I need heals! _ ”

The voice chat crackles, and then for the first time, Symmetra’s player speaks in voice chat.

“ _ I set up the teleporter in the back room off spawn _ ,” he says in a surprisingly lovely tenor, “ _ If you guys wanna group up, we might be able to flank them. _ ”

“ _ Dude, are you deaf or are you just trying to have some sort of weird bang sesh with Mercy?” _

“ _ Okay _ ,” the guy playing Symmetra says placidly, “ _ Well, if any of you have a better plan, I’m open to suggestions _ .”

“ _ Go fuck yourself, dude, I’m not playing along with your bullshit flanking idea _ ,” KILLER9697 snaps through voice chat.

“ _ I’ll take that under advisement _ ,” Symmetra Player says, so quietly that Kurt barely hears him. He’s obviously pulled his mic away from his face, and Kurt can’t help but smile at the barely contained irritation in his voice. Something about this guy is trustworthy.

The clock is counting down, so Kurt hits /whisper, scrolls through to the guy’s tag -  _ BumbleB#0206 _ \- and types out a message.

_ McQueen to BumbleB: hey, wanna rush this joint together? _

Symmetra goes still for a second, then crouches rapidly several times and says  _ Understood. _

Kurt shakes his head, switches his beam to damage boost, and follows  _ BumbleB _ up the stairs onto the second level.

To be fair to them, they do get two kills before the enemy Bastion relocates and mows them down. Overtime ticks away, and through the killcam Kurt watches the rest of his team miserably fail to get on point. Sighing, he resigns himself to hitting his lowest SR in months as the red  _ DEFEAT _ scrolls across the screen.

“GG, guys,” he says reluctantly into voice chat, through the predictable stream of profanities and slurs that the rest of his teammates are throwing at each other. BumbleB has already left the match, but a smile comes to Kurt’s face as the cards show up and Symmetra’s icon is placed above gold elims.

“Holy moly,” Kurt mutters, eyes widening as he reads that somehow, someway, this crazy solo queue Symmetra managed to score thirty five kills.

He’s about to take his headset off for the evening and call it a night, go beg Mercedes to queue with him so he can claw his way back up to diamond, when his chat dings.

_ BumbleB to McQueen: hey, thanks for the moral support there _

_ BumbleB to McQueen: it could have worked _

Kurt smiles, sitting back down to type.

_ McQueen to BumbleB: yeah, it could have, but oh well. you got gold elims tho, how?? _

_ BumbleB to McQueen: support main _

_ BumbleB to McQueen: eighty hours on sym haha _

Kurt literally shouts “ _ Eighty? _ ” out loud.

He’s in the middle of typing out an extremely long message about how he’s never actually met a Symmetra who can hold their own, especially in ranked, and that this guy’s game sense and strategy is obviously great, so if he ever wants to duo queue -

And then he gets an invite. From BumbleB.

He hits accept so fast he nearly flings his mouse off his desk.

He’s set to auto join group chat so he expects a hello, either typed or spoken. What he’s not expecting is that same tenor voice singing Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream.

The guy is good,  _ really _ good. Kurt’s about to turn off group chat, or mute his mic, or  _ something _ , when Mercedes boots his door open and yells “ _ Don’t leave your shaving stubble in the damn sink, Kurt! _ ”

The guy interrupts himself mid song with a small shriek, and Kurt turns to his door to find it already shut again, Mercedes’ footsteps stomping down the corridor. 

“ _ Is someone there? _ ” BumbleB says nervously, and Kurt curses internally, grits his teeth, and tries to sound cool and relaxed as he says, “Hey, yeah, sorry, a video just played off my phone.”

“ _ Oh! I thought there was someone in my apartment, _ ” the guy laughs nervously, “ _ McQueen, right? _ ”

And for some stupid, stupid, reason, Kurt replies with, “Actually, my name’s Kurt.”

BumbleB doesn’t reply, and Kurt scrambles to continue. “My name isn’t McQueen. Obviously. I’m just a fan. Of the designer, of course, may he rest in peace. My actual name is Kurt. My game name is McQueen.”

BumbleB actually laughs at Kurt’s ridiculous fumbling. “ _ Nice to meet you, Kurt. I’m Blaine. _ ”

“Nice to meet you, Blaine,” Kurt says, trying not to swoon internally. This guy - this  _ Blaine _ \- has a dreamy voice, good manners, and, as he checks the guy’s career profile, approximately 120 hours exclusively on support heroes.

“ _ I was looking at your stats and was wondering if you wanted to duo queue? _ ” Blaine asks, “ _ I’m a crappy Mercy and I get yelled at if I pick anyone but her - I was going to message you, but I think I hit the group button by accident.” _

Kurt looks at himself in the mirror beside his desk and mouths  _ do not fuck this up _ .

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” he says casually, winking at himself in the mirror, “If you’re down.”

“ _ Awesome! _ ” Blaine sounds genuinely happy, “ _ Alright, I gotta log off for now, but I’ll shoot you a message tomorrow. _ ”

“Yeah, of course,” Kurt shrugs, pulls a face like he’s sitting in a café with this guy instead of talking over the internet, “Always good to meet a fellow support main.”

Blaine laughs again, and it’s really just unfairly cute. “ _ See you later, Kurt. _ ”

“Bye,” Kurt says weakly, and then Blaine leaves the group and Kurt tears his headphones off, quits the game and throws his bedroom door open.

“ _ Mercedes! _ ” he yells, already certain that he’s in too deep with this guy. He’s also not sure that he cares. But he certainly does need his best friend’s advice.


	9. inch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt has weird ways of trying to get blaine to bang.

“A little further to the right,” Kurt says, and Blaine stretches up on his toes so he can adjust the picture frame. “Like that?”

“Mm, no, a little more. Maybe an inch up?”

Blaine groans, falling back down onto his heels. “Why am I doing this? You’re taller than me.”

“Because I know exactly where I want this photo, and it’ll take me forever to hang it by myself,” Kurt indicates the wall, “You nearly got it.”

“Fine,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes, “Here?”

“No. Maybe this is the wrong wall.”

“You just said that you knew exactly where you wanted it, honey,” Blaine says, his calves starting to cramp, “Here or somewhere else?”

Kurt doesn’t reply, and Blaine cranes his head over his shoulder. “Kurt?”

His husband is staring, one hand over his mouth, at a point that is definitely way below where Blaine is currently holding the photo of them ice skating from earlier that month.

“Are you staring at my ass?” Blaine asks incredulously, “While I’m trying to hang a photo of us?”

Kurt’s eyes snap back up to face level and he immediately goes crimson. “No. No! Why would I -”

“Kurt Hummel, you are the  _ worst _ liar on the planet!” Blaine puts the photo down on their chest of drawers and plants his hands on his hips, “Did you actually even look at the adjustment I made?”

Kurt inhales to start defending himself, and then shrugs. “Well. No.”

“You are so out of order,” Blaine shakes his head, unable to help his smile as his husband grins sheepishly at him.

“You’re wearing booty shorts and no underwear, Blaine, I’m helpless.”

“You’re ridiculous is what you are,” Blaine says, “Are we hanging this picture or not?”

“We could hang something else,” Kurt says, raising his eyebrows and stepping closer so he can wrap his arms around Blaine’s waist, “If you know what I mean…”

“I actually have no idea,” Blaine laughs, “Because your innuendos make absolutely no sense.”

“Fair enough, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to jump your bones,” Kurt’s hands start to wander, “Interested?”

“Of course I’m interested, you dummy,” Blaine leans up and kisses Kurt before he can keep making bad jokes, “But next time you just want to have sex, how about you say that instead of making me hang photos until I notice you staring at my ass?”

“I thought it was romantic,” Kurt mumbles as Blaine takes his hand and leads him through into the bedroom, “Was it not romantic? It was romantic, right Blaine? You know, I can’t stop looking at you -”

Blaine pushes him down onto the bed, straddles his lap and makes sure Kurt’s mouth is too busy for him to keep babbling.


	10. judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meet cute in the snow.

“Fuck snow,” Kurt mutters under his breath, struggling to keep his balance as he makes his way home. Whatever possessed him to make a grocery run just after a blizzard, he’s not quite sure.

He pauses to catch his breath, already exhausted as he stares at the huge pile of snow, dirt and ice discarded by the snowploughs. Even his sturdiest snow boots aren’t quite up to the task of climbing the mountain between him and his destination, so he decides to cut through the dog park and hope that the snowplough gods will look kindly upon him at the other end of the block.

He’s halfway through the park, lifting each foot well above the snow to avoid tripping even if he looks like an idiot, when he hears a weird noise.

It’s like someone running, but far faster than any human should be able to. Frowning, Kurt shuffles 180 degrees, and sees what looks like a cannonball composed of white and bright neon green sprinting towards him.

“Jesus!” Kurt yelps, jumping sideways as the dog sideswipes him at high speed. His heel catches on something under the snow and he shrieks, slips, and falls backwards into the snow.

Stunned by the sudden cold and the fall, he lies there silently for a second, staring up at the yellow-grey sky and wondering whether climbing the ice mountain would have been easier.

“Oh my god!” a voice yells, “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry - are you okay?”

The snow crunches beside him and a concerned face comes into view. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, blinking several times until said face is less blurry, “You should really -”

He stops dead as he realises just how incredibly beautiful the man leaning over him is.

“I am so sorry about that, we’re still working on recall,” the guy says, looking genuinely, desperately apologetic, “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” Kurt sits up, even though his coat is probably ruined by snow and mud, “It’s no problem.”

He looks at the culprit of his sudden trip into the closest snow flurry, a dalmatian in a bright green coat and matching snow boots. Her tail is wagging as she noses enthusiastically at the elbow of the man kneeling next to him.

“I really am so sorry,” he says, these ridiculously beautiful honey-brown eyes staring deep into Kurt’s, “We’ve been cooped up all day, I just decided to run out with her quickly before she shredded another one of her toys.”

_ Oh, Kurt, why is your judgement always marred by pretty eyes and a cute dog? _

“It’s really no big deal,” Kurt says, brushing the snow off his coat, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Here, let me help you up,” Mr. Beautiful gets to his feet and offers out a hand, which Kurt gladly takes. He’s pulled upwards with a surprising amount of strength and almost goes back down into the snow, taking the handsome stranger - who is clad in a bright white ski suit with rainbow highlights - with him.

“Whoa!” Mr. Beautiful laughs, “You good?”

Kurt stands there, held in the arms of this random beautiful guy in a rainbow ski suit and matching hat, and very nearly swoons.

“I’m Blaine,” the guy says, releasing Kurt and taking his hand instead, “And this is Perdita, or Didi, who is  _ very sorry _ about knocking this nice man over, aren’t you Didi?”

Kurt blushes when Blaine gives him another smile. “I’m Kurt. Nice to meet you.”

_ You idiot _ , his brain says,  _ this guy’s dog just knocked you down and scattered thirty dollars worth of groceries all over the ground. _

“Oh! Your groceries,” Blaine says immediately, like he’s a mindreader, “Here, let me get these for you.”

“There’s really no need,” Kurt says, even though his heart is singing  _ yes, please, Blaine the Handsome Stranger, please help me pick up my groceries, and also maybe marry me and hold me all night with your strong, strong arms _ .

“No, really I insist,” Blaine says, with the same blinding smile. Kurt’s knees are fucking  _ jelly _ .

He helps Kurt gather his things, even produces a reusable cloth bag from inside his suit when one of the paper bags splits, and Kurt’s heart does three somersaults and a round off when he sees that the logo on the side reads  _ The Stonewall Inn. _

_ No straight guy carries around a Stonewall Inn bag. _

“The Stonewall, huh?” he says, hauling the second bag of groceries up in his arms, “Have you been?”

Blaine’s head snaps up and he says, somewhat defensively, “Have you?”

Kurt summons up his bravery and says, “Well, it’s kind of a rite of passage for a young gay guy in New York, isn’t it?”

The smile that spreads across Blaine’s face - well. If Kurt thought the previous one was blinding, this one is so powerful Kurt thinks his eyes start to water. They just stand there, grinning at each other like idiots, until Didi clearly loses patience with them both and paws at Blaine’s suit, leaving a muddy streak down the leg.

“Hey, none of that,” Blaine pats her head and unclips a leash from around his waist, “We’ll go home, okay girl?”

He bends to clip it onto Didi’s collar and hands the tote bag over. “Nice to meet you, Kurt,” he says, and Kurt looks at his bright eyes and his red cheeks and thinks to himself  _ fuck, this guy is perfect. _

“Can I get your number?” he asks.

Blaine’s eyes widen and Kurt scrambles to justify yourself. “I mean, I can’t just take your bag. Maybe I could return it to you over coffee some day?”

_ Please say yes. _

Blaine’s eye-melting smile returns. “I would love that.”

“Great,” Kurt fumbles off his gloves, offers out his phone to Blaine, who uses it - without even taking off his gloves, oh, of course this perfect man has touchscreen sensitive gloves. He types for a moment, then hands it back and says, “Call me?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says breathlessly, “Yeah, I will.”

“I have to get back, Didi’s paws will freeze,” Blaine starts to back away, but he doesn’t break eye contact, and Kurt doesn’t either. “Really, though. Call me.”

“I will,” Kurt says again, and this time he pairs it with his own ridiculously wide, eyes scrunched smile.

Hopefully Blaine likes it just as much as Kurt likes his.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blaine's snowsuit is [mia's here](http://78.media.tumblr.com/201074faeef792c39422f9bbe851aa1b/tumblr_omon08b7PT1uetdyxo6_1280.jpg)!!


	11. key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt and blaine warm up after spending some time in the snow.

“Blaine,” Kurt mumbles, pressed up against Blaine’s back with his hands desperately trying to make their way under his layers and onto his skin, “Blaine, unlock the door.”

“I’m trying,” Blaine says, his fingers numb even through two pairs of gloves. The key to their lodge is deep in the inner pocket of his ski jacket, and he can’t get it out. “Kurt, you’re not helping.”

“I’m so cold,” Kurt’s icy face presses against Blaine’s neck and Blaine yelps. “Kurt!”

“Unlock the door,” Kurt says, lips brushing Blaine’s throat. It would be pleasant, even arousing, if it wasn’t like having an ice cube pressed against his pulse point, and it’s the sheer drive to get his husband’s cold lips off his exposed neck that gets the key out of his pocket and in the door.

As soon as it opens Kurt abandons him to the elements and dives through the door, into the warmth that the thermostat has maintained for them during their post-dinner ice skating excursion that turned into getting lost on the way back from the rink and spending half an hour walking up towards a ski trail instead of down towards the lodges. Blaine follows quickly, slamming and locking the door behind him as if turning the latch will keep the cold air out.

“Oh my god, it’s fucking freezing out there,” Kurt moans, lowering himself to the ground and trying to extricate himself from his boots. Blaine, who forwent lace up snow boots for a slip on pair, simply kicks out of one of his and then kneels in front of Kurt, pulling his hands away from the securely knotted laces.

“Sweetie, your fingers,” he mumbles, holding Kurt’s frigid hands in his, “You should have asked for your gloves back.”

Kurt tries to smile, but his teeth are chattering too hard. “And take them away from you? You’re the pianist here, Blaine.”

Blaine shakes his head, picking the knot apart and sliding one of the boots off. “Let’s not play the who-needs-their-hands-more game.”

Kurt laughs, then yawns. “Oh, god, I’m so tired.”

“You skated your butt off,” Blaine grins at him, “And only fell, what, fifty times? Sixty?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kurt pulls his glove off and smacks Blaine lightly on the shoulder with it, “Mr. I Was Born An Olympic Ice Skater. Blaine Harding. Blaine Kwan. Blaine Lapinski -”

“Should I be insulted that you’re only coming up with female figure skaters? Especially one who committed a felony?”

“Probably,” Kurt yawns again, “Hold on, I can think of a dude who skates.”

Blaine snorts, getting to his feet and starting to head for the bathroom. “Don’t hurt yourself too hard.”

“Hey,” Kurt reels him back in and wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist. “You know I’m just kidding.”

Blaine puts on a pout, batting his eyelashes sadly, and Kurt leans their foreheads together, pulling him even closer. “Don’t pull that face at me, Mr. Hummel.”

“What face?” Blaine tilts his head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you’re such a -” Kurt digs his hand under Blaine’s sweater, his polo and his thermal shirt until his freezing hands can squirm down the back of his jeans, and Blaine yelps. “ _ Kurt! _ Cold hands!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kurt parrots back, laughing as Blaine attempts to escape, but Kurt’s arms are too strong, so instead Blaine switches tactics - jams his own hands up the back of Kurt’s expensive wool knit cardigan and warms his cold hands on his husband’s ribcage.

Kurt’s legs buckle in surprise and they collapse to the floor, Blaine giggling hysterically as Kurt shrieks. “That’s not fair! Blaine, your hands are like ice blocks!”

“And yours aren’t?” Blaine laughs, leaning over Kurt to kiss his frowning mouth. “C’mon. Let’s get warmed up in the bath and get an early night.”

“Actually,” Kurt throws his arms around Blaine’s neck, “I had a better idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Blaine hums, “Do share.”

“Me.” Kurt’s fingers twine in Blaine’s hair, tugging his head back a little so he can press a still cold kiss to his neck. “You.” Brings one leg up between Blaine’s and skims his spare hand over Blaine’s ass. “A blanket in front of the fire.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Blaine says, eyes fluttering shut as Kurt sets his teeth lightly against his throat, “I am - I am very intrigued.”

“Some music,” Kurt continues, the brush of his lips against Blaine’s throat making shivers run down his spine, “A romantic Spotify playlist, maybe.”

“How to fuck your husband in a ski lodge?” Blaine says breathlessly.

Kurt gasps. “How to  _ make love _ to your husband in a ski lodge, thank you very much.”

Blaine laughs again, but it ends in a hitched moan as Kurt gently presses his thigh upwards between Blaine’s.

“I could be talked into this,” he says, as if he wouldn’t have Kurt right there right now on the damp, slushy entry hallway into their lodge, still with one of his snow boots on.

Kurt kisses him gently. “Or do you just want to go to bed?”

Blaine actually snorts. “Let me pick between letting you ravage me -”

“ _ Make love _ to you.”

“Make love to me in front of a fireplace as snow falls outside” Blaine amends, “Or going to bed early? I’m going to pick the fireplace, every time.”

Kurt pushes Blaine’s curls off his forehead and says softly, “Happy anniversary, Blaine.”

“Happy anniversary, Kurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kurt refers to banging as making love all the fucking time. fight me on this.


	12. limited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt meets blaine's horse.

Kurt doesn’t like horses. He would even go so far as to say he has a healthy aversion to anything larger than a Saint Bernard. The fear likely stems from a fateful trip to a petting zoo where his grandmother lifted him up to touch the nose of a Shetland pony and it mistook his pudgy, Cheeto stained fingers for a carrot and chomped down with gusto, but Kurt just tells everyone that it’s evolution telling him not to trust anything with teeth that big and a brain that small.

Which is why this is testament to how deeply he loves and trusts Blaine Anderson.

“Are you sure she won’t bite?” Kurt asks, using his much smaller boyfriend as a meat shield between this mountain of muscle and hatred named Coco standing in front of them. Blaine, who appears to have absolutely no fear of his horse, gives him a sunny smile. “Of course she won’t, Kurt, she’s a gentle giant.”

Kurt’s limited experience with horses tells him that  _ gentle _ is a highly inaccurate word.

“Here,” Blaine takes his hand, unfolds his tightly clenched fingers with only some difficulty, and places a halved apple in his palm. “Just hold your hand out slowly, and she’ll take it.”

Kurt looks deep into the eyes of Blaine’s supposed best friend in the world ( _ apart from you _ , he had said) and tells himself that they’re  _ definitely not _ seething with barely contained anger.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, “I swear on my life that she’s not going to bite you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Kurt says under his breath, but he lifts his hand - palm up, fingers together and flat - up to Coco’s nose and braces himself for pain.

Instead, she gently snuffles the apple and then - unveiling those terrifying yellow teeth - crunches it down. Blaine pats her nose and says “Look! I told you she was gentle.”

Kurt grimaces. “She didn’t bite me.  _ Yet _ .”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “She’s not gonna bite you, look -” he reaches up and sticks his fingers in Coco’s mouth, and she obligingly opens wide like Blaine’s some sort of horse dentist.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Kurt takes several steps back as a wave of horse breath washes over him, “You’re going to lose a finger.”

“No I’m not,” Blaine pets Coco’s nose again and wipes his hands on his tight-fitting pants, “C’mon, time for the next step.”

“Next step?” Kurt repeats, as Blaine takes his hand and leads him across the yard, “What’s the next step?”

“Stand here,” Blaine pats a wooden block in the shape of three stairs, “And put this on.”

He pushes a black helmet into his hands, and Kurt says, “Why?”

“We’re gonna go for a ride,” Blaine says, putting on a matching helmet, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“A  _ ride? _ ” Kurt repeats, “You want me to get on this thing?”

“Hey,” Blaine pouts, “She’s not a thing, are you Coco?”

Coco snorts and Blaine strokes her face. “Exactly. C’mon, Kurt, we’ll go for a walk around the yard.”

Kurt’s distrust of horses hasn’t ebbed, but his love for his boyfriend grows exponentially every second they’re together, which is why he agrees.

“Fine,” he says, lowering the helmet gently onto his head, “But if this th - if  _ Coco _ goes any faster than a slow walk, I’m bailing off the back and you can’t stop me.”

“No problem,” Blaine leans up and pecks him on the cheek, then gestures to the block again. “Climb up, put your hands on her neck and swing your leg over her back.”

Kurt takes a deep breath as he climbs up onto the block and rests his hands gently on Coco’s neck. She’s steady as a rock, but all Kurt can think of is that dumb video of a cyclist trying to get on a wild horse’s back and being thrown off immediately.

“Hey,” Blaine reaches up and touches Kurt’s hand, “I swear. She’s not gonna move. Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Kurt says indignantly, and before he can chicken out he swings his leg up. Her back is higher than he expected, and he has to do an awkward little hop to sit evenly.

“There we go,” Blaine gives him a double thumbs up, and then - like it’s nothing, like he’s not an inch shorter than Kurt - hops up in front of him, takes Kurt’s hands and places them on his hips. “Hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt says, not missing up on an opportunity to get his arms around Blaine’s ridiculously trim waist, “Now what?” 

“Now,” Blaine clicks his tongue, “We ride.”

Coco steps forward and Kurt instinctively tightens his grip on Blaine, inhaling sharply. As they move away from the mounting block the ground gets further and further away, and Kurt realises that actually? Yeah. He’s scared.

“How far are we going?” he asks, voice embarrassingly high, and Blaine takes one hands off the reins and pats Kurt’s arms. “Relax, we’re not going to go any faster than this.”

“This seems pretty fast,” Kurt tucks his face against Blaine’s shoulder, staring anxiously at the ground beneath them as Coco walks around the yard.

“Hey,” Blaine glances back, “Don’t look at the ground, look straight ahead.”

Reluctantly, Kurt does as asked. Blaine’s hands are relaxed, and his body curves against Kurt’s, pressed together from shoulder to knee. Kurt can’t quite deal with the knowledge that he’s riding something that isn’t being controlled completely by a human, so he closes his eyes and buries his face in Blaine’s shoulder, breathing in his raspberry hair gel and cinnamon-citrus aftershave.

“I used to pretend I was a prince,” Blaine says, “Looking for my princess.”

“Princess?”

“Well, when my mom asked why I spent hours just riding around the yard working on my posture,” Blaine laughs, “But I was  _ really _ looking for my knight in shining armour.”

“Not another prince?”

“Well, at the time I was watching A Princess Bride three or four times a week, and I’m not going to lie about wishing that a handsome farmhand called Westley would steal me away, but…” Blaine sighs, “I didn’t want to do farm work, so I changed it to a knight.”

Kurt laughs. “And did you find him?”

“My knight in shining Marc Jacobs?” Blaine twists to kiss Kurt, “Yeah, I found him.”

“I’m pretty sure you saved me,” Kurt says, “Charging in on your metaphorical horse, leading me down winding hallways, serenading me…”

“Well, maybe we saved each other,” Blaine says, “Wanna get off? I know riding bareback isn’t for everyone.”

Kurt hooks his chin over Blaine’s shoulder and watches Coco wander aimlessly wherever the fancy takes her. “No, it’s okay. Show me where you used to ride.”

Blaine laughs. “So I can tell everyone I found my knight?”

“Exactly,” Kurt says, “Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look into blaine's beautiful eyes and tell me this spoiled rich boy did Not have a horse. go on. try it. i dare you.


	13. mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt hates the rain, basically.

It’s 11 when Kurt wakes, much later than he’d planned to, but the warmth that Blaine is putting out is much more tempting than getting up and walking out into the real world. From what he can hear it’s still pouring with rain, and he yawns, rolls over and throws an arm around Blaine’s waist.

They so rarely get to lie in like this, with Blaine at NYU and Kurt trying to make his way onto Broadway. Kurt savours the time when they do get it.

He’s barely been awake for five minutes when Blaine stretches, groans loudly and cracks open an eye, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. Kurt, unable to stop himself, spoons up behind him and murmurs, “Good morning handsome.”

“Mm, morning,” Blaine checks the time and makes an appreciative noise as Kurt presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Kurt realises Blaine must have gotten up to get more layers in the night, because he’s wearing one of Kurt’s NYADA sweatshirts and he’d been shirtless when they fell asleep, “You?”

“I got cold in the middle of the night,” Blaine pokes Kurt in the chest, “You stuck your freezing hands on my stomach.”

“Only because you’re like my own personal furnace,” Kurt runs his hand down Blaine’s side and tucks it under the waistband of his briefs, “I’d freeze to death without you.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move to get out of bed. “Any plans for today?”

“Mm,” Kurt throws his leg over Blaine’s, “Stay in bed with you. Eat soup and watch Netflix all day.”

“We need to go grocery shopping,” Blaine says, “And we need to figure out what’s wrong with the cupboard door under the sink.”

“Mm,” Kurt says, “Or we could do something else.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to go grocery shopping with me?” Blaine pouts, and Kurt grimaces. He does enjoy shopping, especially with his husband.

“It’s raining out there,” he says, his last attempt to entice Blaine into staying in bed all day, “Do you want to walk all the way to the grocery store in the rain?”

Blaine huffs. “Do you want to go through Saturday movie night without popcorn?”

Kurt is silent for a moment.

“Check and mate,” Blaine kisses his forehead and jumps out of bed, bouncing over to the window to throw the curtains open. “And it’s barely even misting out there!”

Kurt whines, curling up under the comforter. “I don’t wanna.”

“Well,” Blaine says diplomatically, “I would be open to any sort of intimacy later, but if I’m thinking about the cupboard door falling on my foot every time I turn on the sink, I don’t really know if I can be convinced.”

Kurt throws his head back. “ _ Fine! _ You win. You win, you win, we’ll go to the grocery store and take a look at the cupboard door.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Blaine says smugly, and Kurt laughs. “Only because I love you.”

“Well, good,” Blaine crosses back over the room and kisses Kurt on the lips, “Because I love you too.”


	14. nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another drabble in the lost boy 'verse! while driving from new york to ohio, they have an unlucky pit stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read the lost boy 'verse [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/series/546139)

“This isn’t how I thought we’d spend our anniversary,” Kurt says.

“Yeah, me either,” Blaine replies, a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth as he holds his handkerchief to Pepper’s long, twitching nose, “But it could be worse.”

“Could it?” Kurt gestures to Joy, fast asleep on his chest, and then to Pepper, “Could it be worse than our stupid dog sticking her nose in a damn gopher hole and nearly getting it bitten off?”

“Well, it could have actually been bitten off,” Blaine says diplomatically, “And at least we didn’t have to drive too far to find a vet.”

“God, I hate Ohio,” Kurt mutters, stroking Joy’s hair gently, “We should have flown.”

“And left Pepper all alone for two weeks?” Blaine lifts the handkerchief away from Pepper’s nose to check if the bite is still bleeding. It is. “She hates the kennels, and you know she’ll love Ohio.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Kurt sighs, “I should have kept a closer eye on her when I let her out to pee.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Blaine would take Kurt’s hand, but his are smeared with blood and dirt, “It was dark.”

“I know,” Kurt shakes his head, “I swear, greyhounds are designed to put their noses where they shouldn’t.”

Blaine laughs, and leans over - careful not to get his dirty hands anywhere near Kurt or Joy - to kiss his husband. He would be more careful - this is Ohio, after all, not New York, but the waiting area of the 24 hour vet clinic is completely empty, apart from a receptionist who is completely engrossed in her crossword puzzle.

Kurt’s phone buzzes, and he checks it quickly. “Dad and Carole are driving out. Carole says she’ll take Joy back in their car and Dad can drive us with Pepper.”

“Oh thank god,” Blaine says, because the idea of getting back behind the wheel after driving for nine hours is giving him a headache.

Kurt opens his mouth to reply but as he does a woman in green scrubs walks into the waiting area and says, “Pepper?”

“That’s us!” Blaine says, like they’re not the only people in the room, “This is Pepper, right here. Kurt, sweetie, do you want to wait here with Joy?”

“No, no, I’m coming in,” Kurt gets up slowly, careful not to wake their daughter, and as a family - Blaine still stooped to hold his handkerchief to Pepper’s nose - they follow the vet.

It’s a flesh wound, the vet says as she cleans it out. She checks Pepper has had her rabies vaccination (she has) and tells them that although it’ll need stitches, she should be fine. Joy, who wakes up around the time the vet shaves Pepper’s nose to disinfect and suture it, seems to find the entire thing bizzare.

“Is Pepper’s nose gonna fall off?” she asks Blaine as he washes his hands in the bathroom the receptionist had showed him to, “Can they put it back on?”

“It won’t fall off, sweetie,” Blaine dries his hands and bends down to pick her up, groaning. She’s getting bigger and bigger each day, and he dreads the day when he’s no longer able to sweep her up and carry her. “She’ll be fine.”

Joy nods soberly. She has remained entirely unshaken by everything, seeing as Kurt had cried the moment he realised what happened and Blaine’s hands hadn’t stopped trembling until they got to the vets.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he says anyway, “Everything will be okay. Grandpa and Grandma are coming to pick you up, and you’ll go home, and then me and Daddy will come later, okay?”

“I wanna stay with you,” Joy says, frowning, and Blaine sighs as they head back towards the room Kurt and Pepper are waiting in. “I know, honey, but it’s getting late and you need to go to sleep.”

Joy just makes a quiet  _ hmph _ noise, so similar to the one Kurt makes that Blaine almost laughs. She takes after her dad so much.

By the time Burt and Carole arrive, Pepper is stitched up and Kurt has a half page of notes on keeping her clean, a bag of oral antibiotics, and one hell of a vet bill. They all pile back into the car - Burt insists on driving their rental, and Joy (knowing that her daddies will be right behind her) decides that she wants to ride with Grandma Carole.

Which means that Kurt and Blaine end up in the back seat of their rental, Pepper sandwiched between them.

“That was one hell of a drive,” Kurt says softly as Blaine pets Pepper’s head.

“Tell me about it,” Blaine yawns, “I always thought we’d be rushing Joy to a hospital, not Peps.”

“Either way, next time? She pees on the side of the road, not in some farmer’s field infested with squirrels.”

“Hindsight is 20/20,” Blaine says, and lays his head on his husband’s shoulder.


	15. orgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt gets a weird fuckin invite.

“Listen to this,” Kurt says, falling onto the couch beside Blaine and flipping open the invite that he had been handed by of one of his fellow auditionees as he left an audition that day, “ _ You, esteemed patron, and a plus-one, are invited to a night of debauchery, bacchanalia, revelry, and original performances this Thursday fourteenth, at the Ivy Wall Theatre, starting at 9pm. _ ”

“The Ivy Wall Theatre?” Blaine repeats, frowning as he pauses his Netflix show with his foot, “Never heard of it.”

“Me neither,” Kurt flips the invite over, looking for further clarification “I don’t even know what this means.”

“Let me see,” Blaine puts his bowl of cheetos down and takes the invite from Kurt’s hands with orange fingers. “Debauchery, bacchanalia, and revelry. And original performances. Kurt, this sounds like some kind of musical theatre orgy.”

Kurt snatches the invite back, reading it again. “An  _ orgy? _ I got invited to an  _ orgy? _ ”

“Debauchery,” Blaine picks his cheetos up again and pops one in his mouth, “Excessive indulgence in sex or drugs.”

“Bacchanalia, basically the same with alcohol,” Kurt mutters, “Revelry, just getting drunk - holy crap, Blaine, I think you’re right.”

The invite is plastered with evocative photos of skinny white people in skimpy outfits, and Kurt repeats, “I got invited to an  _ orgy _ .”

“Do you wanna go?” Blaine throws a cheeto puff in the air, tilts his head back and catches it in his mouth. He speaks through the crunching. “It might be fun.”

“Do I want to go to an orgy?” Kurt says, “Do  _ you _ want to go?”

Blaine shrugs, holding the bowl out so Kurt can take a handful. “You know I’d go anywhere with you. There might be some good music.”

“There also might be a lot of people we don’t know doing things we don’t want to do,” Kurt says, “But if you want to go, I’ll go.”

There’s silence for a moment as they stare at each other, both anxiously crunching cheetos. Finally, Blaine mumbles, “No, I don’t want to go.”

“Good,” Kurt breathes a sigh of relief, “Because it literally sounds like the worst thing on earth to me.”

Blaine laughs. “We don’t have any plans that Thursday though. Maybe we should do something. Be adventurous.”

Kurt shuffles along the couch until he can lean against Blaine’s side and rest his head on his shoulder, nudging his hand aside to get at the cheeto bowl. “Adventure is for people who don’t have Netflix and a cuddly husband to stay home with.”

“Very true,” Blaine says, “Wanna watch a David Attenborough documentary with me?”

“Much more than I want to go to this orgy,” Kurt says, crumpling the invite in his hand and throwing it over the back of the couch.


	16. perform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just fluff really

Blaine loves watching Kurt perform, loves watching him feel the music with every muscle and sinew in his body. He loves seeing this man transform into his role, to become someone else and yet somehow still retain all the things that make Kurt  _ Kurt _ . His grace combined with clumsiness, his sharp wit with his compassion, his ability to hold grudges with his ability to forgive.

But just as much he loves watching him return to himself. He sits on the bed as Kurt removes the last traces of his stage makeup after his shower, washes his face with cold water and starts to smear on one of his fancy mud masks.

“You were amazing today,” Blaine says, “I loved every second of it.”

Kurt gives him a gentle smile, so different from the role he plays as the Emcee of Cabaret. “You say that every time you come and see me.”

“Well, it’s always true,” Blaine rolls off the bed and crosses the room so he can kiss Kurt’s forehead before it disappears under mud, “Every time I see it.”

“And you’re on what, five times now?”

“Six,” Blaine says smugly, “And I’m going to make it to ten before your run ends.”

“Ten? Wow.”

“You’re the most talented person on this earth, Kurt,” Blaine says, “I count myself lucky that I even get to call you my husband.”

Kurt gives him a watery-eyed smile, reaching up to cup Blaine’s face and pull him down for a kiss. Blaine throws his arms over Kurt’s shoulders, smiling as Kurt’s thumb strokes gently over his cheekbone.

“I feel the same way,” he says once the kiss is over, and as Blaine leans back Kurt opens his eyes and  _ wheezes _ .

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” he puts a hand to his mouth, “Oh my god your  _ face _ -”

Blaine turns to look in the mirror and bursts into laughter at the patchy spots of mud smeared on his cheek and nose where they had pressed against Kurt’s. “ _ Whoops. _ ”

“My mud mask,” Kurt says mournfully, “That was all I had left.”

“Aww, sweetie,” Blaine takes his face in his hands and leans in like he’s going to kiss him again, but instead he darts to the side and squashes their faces together.

“Blaine!” Kurt yelps, “This cost me twenty dollars, you heathen!”

“Sharing is caring,” Blaine says, nuzzling their noses together, “In sickness and in health -”

“For richer, for poorer, which is definitely what I am now,” Kurt mutters, but he’s smiling. “You don’t even need this thing, your skin is flawless.”

“Maybe I just like matching with you,” Blaine says, and this time goes in for a real kiss.

 


	17. raw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine trips. based off the mocha-cocoa verse created in last year's klaine advent.

**_From: My Love ♥_ ** **_  
_ ** **_To: Kurt_ ** **_  
_ ** _ can you help me get in pls _

**_From: My Love ♥_ ** **_  
_ ** **_To: Kurt_ ** **_  
_ ** _ i need help :( _

Kurt rolls his eyes at the text. Blaine had decided to take Mocha and Cocoa for a run and then down to the store, but the thought of him trying to get two excitable dogs and groceries up the stairs is… worrying, to say the least.

He shoots back a text saying  _ omw _ , grabs his keys and goes to meet Blaine on the ground floor.

When he exits the stairwell, he sees his boyfriend sat on the floor with two bags of groceries, two dogs, and two matching raw knees.

“Oh, honey!” Kurt rushes across the lobby, “What happened?”

Blaine grimaces. “I couldn’t see over the groceries, one of the dogs crossed in front of me, I tripped.”

“Sweetie,” Kurt takes both of his hands, turns them to see two matching raw palms, too.

“It’s okay,” Blaine gives him a wobbly smile, “This nice lady helped me carry everything home, but I can’t get up the stairs, not with Mocha and Cocoa.”

“Okay,” Kurt pushes Cocoa’s inquisitive nose away, “Let’s get you upstairs and then I’ll come back for the dogs and the groceries.”

“No, no way,” Blaine shakes his head, “Take the babies and the food, come back for me in a second.”

“And leave you bleeding on the floor?” Kurt says incredulously, “The dogs will be fine.”

“There’s a full pack of beef mince in there, Kurt,” Blaine says seriously, “If we leave the dogs and the groceries together, when you come back, one of them will be gone.”

Kurt presses his lips together. Blaine’s logic, as always, is impeccable. “Fine. But you stay right there, okay?”

Blaine points at his bloody knees. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Kurt loops the dogs leashes over his wrist and then heaves up both of the bags of groceries, “I’ll be back in a second.”

He climbs the three flights of stairs to his apartment in record time, dumps the groceries and the dogs in Blaine’s apartment, and then races back down the stairs.

“Okay,” he says breathlessly, “Let’s get you up.”

Blaine reaches up with his hands and Kurt shakes his head. “Nope. No way.”

“What?” Blaine says, and Kurt steps behind him, gets his arms under Blaine’s and hauls him upright. “Can you stand?”

Blaine’s tips his chin up and says “Yeah, obviously.”

The downturn of his mouth and his bruised shins say otherwise, and Kurt clicks his tongue. “Okay. Hop on.”

“Hop on what?” Blaine says, “The magical elevator?”

“Otherwise known as Kurt Hummel,” Kurt says, turning his back to his boyfriend and gesturing. “On my back. Let’s go.”

“Your back? Kurt, no way. I might hurt you.”

“It’s piggyback or fireman’s carry,” Kurt says, “No way you’re walking up the stairs like that.”

Blaine laughs. “I can get up there myself! I don’t need you to -”

Kurt bends down, plants his shoulder at Blaine’s stomach, and lifts him off his feet.

“ -  _ Kurt! _ Oh my god, oh my god, put me down!”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, patting Blaine lightly on the butt, “Only three flights.”

Blaine’s heavier than he thought, but Kurt works out for a reason, and only half of it is for aesthetics. He gets halfway up the second flight of stairs before he starts to flag, but then they pass Mrs. Newsham the homophobe from the fifth floor and he gets a second wind from the look on her face.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, “You can put me down now.”

“Nope,” Kurt says, even though his calves are burning, “Not until we get you in the apartment.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine says loudly, “I really am. You’re probably getting blood all over your shirt!”

“These are my laundry day clothes anyway,” Kurt says breathlessly, “Your knees are worth it.”

Blaine just groans as they reach the third floor and Kurt staggers down the hallway and upends Blaine outside of his apartment.

“Okay,” he says, fully aware that his face is probably tomato red and he’s breathing extremely hard, “That was easy.”

Blaine says, “When did you get so strong?”

Kurt plucks at his shirt as he unlocks Blaine’s apartment door again. “You know I’ve been working out.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, starry-eyed, “But not like -”

He reaches out and touches one of Kurt’s biceps. “You’re  _ really _ strong.”

Kurt preens a little. He loves when Blaine compliments him, especially when the compliment comes with Blaine’s wide eyes and slightly breathy voice. “Well, I’m always happy to do some heavy lifting for you.”

“And I’m happy to be lifted,” Blaine says in a sultry voice. Kurt shakes his head. “No seduction, we need to clean out your injuries. Come on.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, his voice pitching up in a whine, “But afterwards, maybe you can heft me over to the bed and we can do something that doesn’t involve my hands and knees?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Kurt says, and just for the hell of it, kicks the door open and sweeps Blaine off his feet to step over the threshold.


	18. stir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another drabble in the lost boy 'verse.

“I think organic is probably the better way to go, but I just can’t get over the extra two dollars tacked onto the price tag,” Kurt muses aloud. It’s their first day with Joy as their officially, totally, can’t-take-her-back-from-us adopted daughter and he wants to make something special to celebrate. “Blaine, sweetie, what do you think?”

Blaine doesn’t reply, and Kurt turns slightly to catch him in his peripheral view. “Blaine?”

There’s no Blaine shaped blur in the corner of his eye, and Kurt finally tears his gaze away from the nutritional content of the two types of rice noodles and looks for his husband.

He is nowhere to be found.

Kurt turns the other way and checks the cart. Joy is gone from the kid seat too.

“Blaine?” he says louder, the beginnings of panic starting to stir in his stomach, “Joy?”

The aisle is empty apart from him, his cart, and an elderly woman browsing the pulses.

“Blaine?” he shoves both packets of rice back onto the shelf, craning his neck to see past the elderly woman, “Where are you?”

Again, his husband and his  _ daughter _ , his newly-adopted, holds-his-heart-in-her-hands daughter fail to come into view.

Kurt abandons his cart entirely and starts down the aisle, pitching his voice louder. “ _ Blaine! _ This isn’t funny!”

Still, nothing. The panic is full fledged now, his hands starting to shake, his eyes blurring with tears. Kurt shouts louder. “Blaine! Joy! Where are you?”

He checks both of the aisles, next to the one they were in, surprises a young couple by knocking shoulders with both of them as he tries to locate his family. His heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to come right out of his chest as he breaks into a light jog, heading down towards the exit of the store, past the condiments, coffee, and the baking aisle before he ends up in the fruit and veg section and they’re not  _ anywhere.  _ He shoves his hand in his bag for his phone, pulls Blaine’s out too, and now he’s in a fully fledged panic attack because his husband is  _ gone _ and his daughter is  _ gone _ and he  _ can’t find them. _

Kurt takes several deep, calming breaths, but they only serve to restore oxygen to his terrified brain and send it spinning, spinning, thinking about all the awful things that  _ must _ have happened.

“Oh god,” he whispers, “Oh, god, they took him again.”

He must look really,  _ really _ distressed because an employee approaches, her eyes wide. “Sir? Are you okay?”

Kurt tries to compose himself but as soon as he says “My husband -” his throat closes up and his eyes well up. He takes another deep breath, manages to whisper, “My daughter, I can’t - I can’t find them.”

Her eyes narrow slightly and Kurt can’t take the knowledge that she’s  _ judging _ him for freaking out. “Please,” he says, “Have you seen them leave? My husband, he has curly dark hair and my daughter, she’s wearing a green jacket and pink shoes, she’s four -”

The employee is shaking her head. “I’m sorry -”

“Can you just -” Kurt swallows hard, “Can you just put a call out? On - on your system thing? Please?”

“Sir, I don’t -”

“Kurt?”

Kurt spins on his heel and standing right there is Blaine, Joy perched on his hip and both of them with the exact same concerned expression.

“Oh my god,” Kurt whispers, “Where have you  _ been _ ?”

“Joy needed the bathroom,” Blaine says, “I told you we were going.”

“I - I didn’t hear you,” Kurt’s voice breaks and he puts a hand to his mouth, “I thought you were gone.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Blaine reaches out and cups his face gently, “No, it’s okay, we’re here.”

Kurt feels - well, he feels exceedingly  _ stupid.  _ His husband and daughter go to the bathroom for two minutes and he freaks out.

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning to the employee, “I’m really sorry, I’m just -”

“It’s fine,” she says, looking pleased to be able to walk away, “Sorry I couldn’t help more.”

Kurt tries to stop crying, but his panic has turned so suddenly into relief that he’s completely overwhelmed. “I’m sorry,” he says, wiping his eyes, “I’m sorry, I just panicked.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Blaine takes his elbow, steers them over into the corner near where all the discounted stuff is, “It’s okay, Kurt, just breathe.”

“I don’t know -” Kurt shakes his head, “I don’t know why I just panicked so hard, I just -”

“I know,” Blaine says, “I know. It’s okay.”

Kurt takes a deep breath.  _ Blaine’s here _ , he tells himself,  _ he’s not going anywhere, and he never will. He’s safe, and Joy’s safe, and everything is okay. _

“I love you,” Blaine says softly, and Kurt actually feels the turmoil of emotions settle. “I love you too,” he says back,reaches out and scoops Joy out of Blaine’s arms, holds her close.

“Love you,” he tells them, “I love you both so much.”

Blaine takes his hand, squeezes it. “Wanna go home?”

Kurt buries his face in Joy’s tiny shoulder, breathes in her fabric softener smell. “No. I’m okay.”

He lifts his head, gives Blaine a genuine smile. “Let’s finish shopping. We have a celebration meal to make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote a lot about blaine adjusting but also wanted to write a bit about kurt adjusting, too.


	19. talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *shrug emogie*

“Did you read the article Rachel sent you?”

“I don’t read anything that Rachel sends me,” Kurt says, pulling off his shirt, “Do we have to talk about this before sex?”

“I just read it now,” Blaine is already nude bar his briefs, lying on the bed with his phone in hand, “It says that you’re having an affair. With  _ her. _ ”

“Well,” Kurt unbuttons his pants, nearly loses his balance trying to get out of them, “I’m not, I can tell you that.”

“Why would she send that to us?” Blaine says, sounding much more upset than Rachel’s stunts warrant, “It’s not exactly funny.”

“You know what Rachel’s like,” Kurt flings his socks at the laundry basket, leaves his underwear on as he kneels on the bed, “She  _ loves _ gossip. If someone talks about her she has to know, and then she has to tell everyone what they said and what she thinks about it.”

“Why does she have to share it with us?” Blaine’s still staring at his phone, brows drawn together. “It’s just…  _ gross _ .”

Kurt crawls over his husband, drops a kiss to the back of his neck. “Put your phone down and pay attention to me.”

Blaine’s typing. “I just want to know why she thinks it’s funny!”

“Blai-aine,” Kurt sing-songs, running his hand down Blaine’s bicep, “Pay,” he kisses Blaine’s neck again, “attention,” his shoulder, “to,” his collarbone, “me.” And finally, his lips.

“Mm,” Blaine’s eyes flutter closed, “Just let me finish this text.”

Kurt sighs. “You’re choosing Rachel over me?”

“Not in the slightest,” Blaine rolls onto his back, pecks Kurt on the mouth and then picks up his phone again, “I just -”

Kurt loses his patience, snatches the phone from Blaine’s hands and tosses it over his shoulder.

“Kurt!” Blaine’s eyes go wide, “That thing was expensive!”

“You know what else is expensive?” Kurt sits back, pinning Blaine to the bed with his weight, “The ring that you put on my finger.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “You’re being overdramatic.”

Kurt sighs, falls onto his side on the bed. “If Rachel’s narcissism is so important, finish your text, but let me entertain myself while you do.”

“Thank you,” Blaine hops up from the bed and crosses the room to fish his phone out from the pile of dirty laundry where Kurt had thrown it, “Now -”

When he turns around, Kurt has his underwear off.

“Rachel can wait,” Blaine says, “She can definitely wait. Of course she can wait. Did I imply that she couldn’t? Because -”

“Blaine,” Kurt arches an eyebrow, “Sweetie. Just get on the bed.”

“Yes sir,” Blaine says breathlessly, “Right away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jules: write smut please  
> me: yeah sure  
> also me: or i could write the beginning of it and not finish it, and purposefully annoy them. yeah. i'll do that.


	20. underline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mercedes does NOT share food.

Kurt is hungry.

He is so, so hungry.

And Mercedes has left a perfectly good box of Chinese takeout in the fridge, and he is so hungry and the only other thing is one egg and half a dried-out lemon, and it’s blizzarding outside, he’s not about to try and go out to get food nor is he going to call for takeout and ask a fellow human being to do the same, and he’s just so  _ hungry _ . This is what he gets for deciding not to take Blaine’s offer to stay with him through this storm without checking he actually had food in the apartment. He’s going to starve, and when the snow melts they’ll find him dead, clutching this box of takeout, complete with the note that says in all caps, underlined four times,  **_KURT DO NOT TOUCH!!!!_ **

Kurt’s mouth is salivating. He reaches out for the box and opens it, staring at the slightly limp but still delicious looking chow mein.

“Mercedes, please forgive me,” he murmurs, turning to the cutlery drawer, “This is a matter of survival -”

Someone kicks the door to the apartment open, and Kurt screams, throws his hands up. “ _ I’M SORRY MERCEDES BUT I HAVE TO EAT! _ ”

“Kurt?”

He peers over his arms to see his boyfriend, wrapped up in a massive parka and wearing bright yellow rainboots, holding two huge bags.

“Blaine?” he says, “What are you doing here?”

All that’s visible of Blaine is his eyes between his bobble hat and his Hufflepuff scarf. “Kurt!” he says, his voice slightly muffled as he sets down the bags and starts to shed his layers, “I saw your Snapchat saying you didn’t have any food, so I came straight over with some takeout and some essentials -”

Kurt actually tears up. “You brought me food?”

Blaine stomps the snow off his boots. “Of course I did! I’m not exactly going to let my boyfriend starve all alone in his apartment, am I?”

Kurt ignores the box of takeout all over the kitchen floor and runs across to throw his arms around Blaine, snow and ice be damned. “You came all the way to Brooklyn just because I said I didn’t have any food?”

“Well,” Blaine blinks his honey-brown eyes up at Kurt, smiling, “Also because Santana and Mercedes are holed up in Tana’s room, and there’s only so much of that I can take before I have to get out.”

Kurt laughs, brushing snowflakes out of Blaine’s hair. “So you brought food?”

“I brought stuff from my favourite Filipino place,” Blaine points at one bag, “And essentials from the bodega round the corner from you. So we can wait out the storm.”

Kurt sniffles. “You’re literally out of this world. Do you know that?”

“Well, don’t thank me yet,” Blaine kisses Kurt with ice-cold lips turns around, revealing another bag on his back, “You’re going to be stuck with me until this storm blows over.”

“Like that’s a trial,” Kurt wipes his eyes hastily when Blaine isn’t looking, “You know I love spending time with you.”

Under his parka, Blaine’s wearing a thick knit sweater that makes him look about as huggable as any person possibly could. He leaves his boots by the door and plants his hands on his hips, grinning broadly. “I also brought board games!” he points at his backpack, “Well, one. And I have a torch. I wanted to bring a heater, but I didn’t have space, so I figured we’ll just huddle for warmth.”

Kurt says, “You’re incredible.”

Blaine picks up the bag of takeout, which is still steaming despite its journey through the blizzard. “Come on. We’ll eat, and then we’ll set up a blanket fort in the bedroom and we can watch reruns of Chopped Junior.”

“I love you,” Kurt whispers.

Blaine gasps, still holding the takeout. “Kurt!”

Kurt starts to say - something, to backtrack or justify - and then Blaine gives him a knee-shaking smile, and says in the sweetest voice, “I love you too, Kurt.”

Kurt kisses him, even if it squashes the takeout. “I love you,” he says again, “You came all the way here, you brought takeout, you brought a torch and food and everything, just because I said I didn’t have any food on Snapchat?”

“Well, you also had a photo of your fridge which was so empty that it made the grandma in me clutch her chest in horror,” Blaine says, “Come on, I can hear your stomach grumbling.”

He darts away, gets two plates out of Kurt’s cupboard and lays them out on the tiny kitchen table. “I got all my favourites, you’re going to love it. Lumpia, pancit palabok, chicken afritada…”

Kurt stands there and watches him and realises that he is the luckiest man on the planet.


	21. variation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine worries about his final piece.

Blaine is so focused on nailing this variation on his overarching theme that he doesn’t even notice someone’s entered the room until their hand settles on his shoulder.

Blaine jolts violently, pulling his headphones off and turning to see his husband standing there, wearing Blaine’s robe and holding a mug of something steaming.

“Kurt?” he says, “What’s wrong?”

“Blaine, sweetie, it’s nearly three in the morning,” Kurt is squinting through the blue light being cast by Blaine’s laptop, “Come to bed.”

Blaine glances back at the piece he’s been working on for - he checks the time - exactly thirteen hours. “But Kurt -”

“I know, I know, it’s due tomorrow,” Kurt pushes the mug into his hand, and Blaine catches the scent of warm milk, with a touch of nutmeg and honey. Exactly the way he drinks it.

“But if you work on it all night you’ll be a mess come sunrise,” Kurt sits next to Blaine on the bench in front of the keyboard, “Get some sleep, finish up in the morning.”

Blaine shakes his head. “But -”

“Blaine,” Kurt curls his hand around the back of Blaine’s neck, pulls him in so their foreheads are pressed together, “Come on. You and I both know that this thing is already perfect.”

Blaine’s stomach twists. “You haven’t heard it.”

“You think I don’t sit outside the door while you’re composing just to hear you play?” Kurt says, “I know you, Blaine. You’ve been working on this thing for months. You know it’s good. I know it’s good. Your professor knows it’s good.”

Blaine groans. “I just…”

Kurt stays quiet, waiting for him to finish his sentence. Blaine closes his eyes, feels tears sting, and he whispers, “I just  _ really _ need to get it right this time.”

“Oh, my love,” Kurt takes the mug from Blaine, places it on the floor and takes Blaine’s face in his hands, “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?”

Blaine sniffles. “It took me three tries to finish high school. Now I’m on my second try for college. I  _ can’t  _ mess this up. I  _ can’t _ do it again, Kurt.”

“Mess it up?” Kurt strokes his cheek, “Blaine, it didn’t take you three tries to finish high school. You’re not going to mess anything up.”

Blaine feels tears drip down his face. “I just want to get it right.”

“Baby,” Kurt pulls him into a hug so tight Blaine can’t breathe for a moment, “Blaine, baby, listen to me. You’re going to be fine. This is your last assignment before you’re done. They already told you you’re graduating with honours. You’re going to be  _ fine _ .”

Blaine clutches the back of Kurt’s shirt, breathing unevenly. “You’re sure?”

“Blaine, I would bet my life on it,” Kurt kisses his temple, then his cheekbone, his lips. “You’re amazing. And I know you want this composition to be perfect. But nothing is ever as perfect as it is in your head.”

Blaine huffs and nods. “I know.”

“And I know just how hard you push yourself to be perfect, too,” Kurt says, looking into Blaine’s eyes, “I know you. And I’m telling you. You don’t need to worry. This piece is beautiful, and everyone is going to love it.”

Blaine sighs. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Kurt stands, leans over Blaine’s laptop and hits save on his composition file, “Come on. Let’s go to bed. We can wake up in the morning, you can play it for me, and then we’re going to walk onto your campus and turn it in, and you’re going to be  _ done _ .”

Blaine nods. Kurt takes his hand, leads him into the bedroom, peels him out of his composing sweater and pants. By the time Blaine’s tucked under the covers, Kurt spooned up behind him, holding him tight, any panic about his composition is completely gone. 

And Kurt turns out to be right - about everything. But then again, Blaine thinks, he usually is.


	22. width

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a conversation about dick sizes.
> 
> so, i haven't written *ahem* relations in a while. don't be too rough on me, okay guys?
> 
> also, jules and jay? you're welcome.

“You ever measured yourself?”

Blaine, his lips brushing Kurt’s hipbone, pauses. “Excuse me?”

Kurt’s looking down at him, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Blaine releases his hold on Kurt’s dick and says, “Why are you asking me that now?”

“I’m curious,” Kurt’s hips pitch upwards, “Don’t - don’t stop, though.”

Blaine plants his elbows on either side of Kurt’s waist and says, “You want to have a discussion about penis size right now? Thirty seconds before I blow you? The first sex we’ve had in two weeks?”

“No, I just -”

“Go ahead,” Blaine tips his head to the side, mouth tantalisingly close to where Kurt wants it the most, “Continue your thought.”

“I don’t need to,” Kurt says plaintively, “You know how I get when you’re near my dick, you _know_ how I get Blaine I lose my filter _Blaine_ -”

Blaine’s kind of having fun, because he loves teasing Kurt and so _rarely_ does he get to do it in the bedroom. Usually he’s on the other end of this, he’s the one babbling, totally at the mercy of Kurt’s devious, ridiculously sexy brain, so getting to give Kurt a taste of his own medicine? Well. Safe to say the power is going to at least _one_ of his heads.

“What do you want to know?” he lowers his lips until they’re barely brushing the underside of Kurt’s cock, one arm across his hips so Kurt can’t move, “Width? Length?”

Kurt throws his head back. “You’re doing this to me. You’re really going to do this to me?”

“What piqued your interest?” he breathes out, and Kurt whines. “Oh my _god_ it doesn’t matter, it was a passing thought -”

“My mouth goes nowhere near your,” Blaine thinks for a moment, “ _Pique_ ,” he grins, “Until I get a full explanation.”

“Of all the things you want me to talk about in bed,” Kurt says, covering his face with one hand, “Of _all the things, Blaine_ -”

“What? It’s related,” Blaine places his hand in an L shape, his thumb running under the base of Kurt’s cock, “Come on. Answer.”

“ _I’ll show you come on_ ,” Kurt mutters, “Jesus, Rachel was bragging about her new boyfriend, okay? She was bragging about his - you _know_ -”

“Penis,” Blaine fills in helpfully, and Kurt’s already pink face is now scarlet, “ _Yes_ , all right? She kept bragging about how big he was, how great it was, until Mercedes literally got up and left.”

“And you’re wondering…” Blaine turns his head and eyes up Kurt’s slightly flagging boner, “How you match up?”

“It’s dumb,” Kurt says miserably, “I told you it didn’t matter.”

“You think,” Blaine brings his hand up and slowly, _slowly_ curls one finger around the base of Kurt’s dick, “That you don’t satisfy me?”

“I’m just -” Kurt’s eyes flutter shut as Blaine incrementally closes his hand around Kurt’s now fully resurrected erection, “J-just - trying to see where I fall on the… the bell curve.”

“The bell curve of dick sizes?” Blaine almost starts laughing, because his husband is so _ridiculous_ sometimes, “You wanna know your standard deviation from the mean? Should we calculate the variance?”

“Don’t make fun of - _oh_ , _fuck_ , Blaine, you’re teasing me, you’re teasing me and it’s been a while since I last came and that was a dirty handjob in the bathroom. Please. _Please!_ ” Kurt whimpers, his hands flailing in midair as Blaine slowly shifts his foreskin up and down incrementally. Blaine is fully aware that he has a smug grin on his face. He knows exactly when Kurt’s reaching the point where he’s going to get teary if Blaine’s mouth doesn’t land where he wants it.

“Okay, okay,” he says, crawling up the bed so he’s properly positioned to rock Kurt’s world, “Well. Rest assured,” he leans down and finally, drags his tongue from the base of Kurt’s cock to the tip, lingering there just enough to make Kurt moan, “You don’t need to worry about size.”

“Oh my fucking god, you’re going to kill me,” Kurt whimpers, running his hands up into Blaine’s hair, “Oh my god, Blaine - _fuck_ -”

Blaine doesn’t consider himself an expert in blowjobs, but he _is_ an expert in Kurt Hummel.

Kurt gasps, tugs on his hair a little more and Blaine sucks hard and tight around the tip and tongues at Kurt’s slit because he knows how that gets him going. Kurt moans and Blaine sinks his mouth back down again, taking in a couple inches this time, and curls his fingers around the base of Kurt’s dick to stroke slowly up and down in time with the bobbing of his head.

“ _God_ ,” Kurt slides his hand down to cup Blaine’s jaw, rubs at the patch of stubble he missed that morning and bites his lip as Blaine slides down a little further, “God, Blaine, you’re so good. You’re so...”

Blaine loves listening to Kurt while they have sex. Once again, usually he’s the one who babbles, who tells Kurt how good he feels, how he loves it. But his mouth is full, and when he gets Kurt in the right mood, he can be just as vocal.

“Ah,” Kurt’s fingers tighten in Blaine’s hair, “Ah, Blaine, a little s-slower.”

Blaine obliges, taking his time. Kurt’s thighs tighten around his head, feet crossing behind Blaine’s back, and his back arches as he moans louder, tugging at Blaine’s hair again. Blaine hums, pitching his own hips against the bed as heat builds in his stomach.

“Uh,” Kurt’s grip on his hair is getting tighter, “This is - gonna be over real quick, honey, if you keep -”

Blaine knows Kurt, and he knows his cock. Knows that if he runs his tongue under Kurt’s foreskin, or breathes in deep through his nose and gives up air for Kurt’s pleasure, that this will be over quickly. Sometimes he wants it to last, but Kurt’s right. It’s been a while since they were intimate, and Blaine wants his husband to feel _good_.

He pulls off for half a second, catches his breath. “You really want me to make it last?”

His voice is rough and he sees how much that affects Kurt, the way he wets his lips and shakes his head. “God. No. Yes? I don’t know. Just - don’t stop.”

“You wanna go for round two after?” Blaine tilts his head, still stroking Kurt’s cock, and okay maybe he is drawing it out a little bit. He takes the opportunity to adjust himself, so he’s laying flat against the covers and can actually get some friction.

“Oh my _god_ Blaine you’re killing me,” Kurt whimpers, “You’re killing me, do you know that? Yes. Yes round two, no don’t make it last, Blaine, baby, I just need to -”

Blaine drops his head down, down, down, until his lips meet his closed hand, and then he drops his hand away and sinks down even further. He loves this, loves the way Kurt’s moans go high and pitchy and he tugs at Blaine’s curls.

“Oh my _god_ \- you have to warn me, baby, you have to,” Kurt’s grip on his hair is so tight it’s actually a little painful, but the pain just adds to the pleasure that Blaine’s already feeling in the pit of his stomach as he catches some of the comforter between his legs and rolls his hips against it. But his jaw is getting tired, so he pulls back off and says, “You should fuck my mouth.”

Kurt flings his head back. “Oh my god. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Blaine licks his lips, opens his mouth with his tongue flat, and Kurt whimpers and takes Blaine’s jaw in one hand, the grip on his hair with the other, and guides him down. He uncrosses his legs, digs his heels into the bed and, thighs trembling, presses his hips up.

Blaine’s eyes flutter shut, and he hums again, slides his hands under Kurt’s ass and encourages him. Kurt’s hips move, hesitantly at first as they re-establish boundaries that have fallen to the wayside over the past few weeks, then harder, until he’s holding Blaine’s head steady and thrusting up into his mouth, a constant stream of praise falling from his lips.

“ _F_ _uck_ , you’re amazing, Blaine,” his voice is high and breathy as he moves faster, and Blaine  just takes it, _loves_ it, “Feel so good, _god_ , I missed you so much -”

Blaine can’t stand it anymore; he shoves a hand down between his cock and the covers and palms himself, once, twice, three times, and then, with a rush of heat and electricity crackling down his spine, his hips stutter to a halt as he comes, whimpering quietly around Kurt’s cock.

“ _Oh_ my god,” Kurt’s desperate now and Blaine shuts his eyes, breathing in slow through his nose as Kurt’s hips jerk and he moans, _ah-ahhh-ahhhhh -_

Kurt comes so hard Blaine’s pretty sure he blacks out a little, because his hands go completely lax in Blaine’s hair and he slumps against the bed, completely still apart from his chest, rising and falling rapidly. Blaine swallows, feels Kurt twitch - not into his mouth from pleasure but away from oversensitivity, so he pulls off to catch his breath, lays his head on Kurt’s thigh.

They’re silent for a minute, maybe more. Blaine’s temporal awareness kind of gets screwed up after an orgasm. When his breathing is back to normal and his body is no longer twitching with the aftershocks of his first release in a two weeks , he clears his throat and asks, “Good?”

Kurt makes a high strangled noise. “Are you kidding? C’mere, let me take care of -”

“No need,” Blaine, feeling loose-limbed and cuddly after his orgasm, crawls up Kurt’s body and lays himself happily on Kurt’s chest, “I took care of myself.”

“Sweetie -”

Blaine smiles up at him. “Really. I’m good.”

Kurt blurts out, “Are you bored?”

Blaine’s smile fades. “What?”

“Well, you know, we’ve been together a long t-time,” Kurt’s hands smooth over his back, “And I just worry that, uh, that…”

He trails off, looking embarrassed. Blaine’s pleasure-slowed brain is still trying to catch up - he will never understand how Kurt goes from coming to going so fast after sex. “Uh huh?”

“That you’re maybe getting -” Kurt finally makes eye contact, “- getting bored of us? Of what we do?”

The _of me_ goes unspoken.

Blaine’s mouth falls open.

“You think I’m bored of you? You were thinking about that while I was - ?”

“ _No!_ ” Kurt says immediately, “No! No. After. You know my brain after sex, it’s just…”

Blaine does know. While his head slows down after being under the covers - or in this case, on top of them - with Kurt, it’s like Kurt’s just gets faster.

“Rachel,” Kurt says, and Blaine hides his frown against Kurt’s chest, “She said. Well. She _mentioned_ how she couldn’t believe we were still satisfied. Because it’s only ever been you, you know. And she,” he waves a hand noncommittally, “says that’s boring. In that way that Rachel does.”

“Hey,” Blaine’s slow brain is finally making connections, “Hey. Boring? Could never describe how I feel about you. How I feel about us. In any aspect of our lives.”

He leans up, kisses Kurt, and feels his husband jolt at the taste of himself in Blaine’s mouth. His hand tangles in Blaine’s hair, lips following Blaine’s when he pulls away.

“You satisfy me,” he says, looking deep into Kurt’s eyes, “Deeply. Completely. In every part of our marriage. What the fuck does Rachel know?”

“How to push my buttons,” Kurt says weakly, and Blaine laughs. “Apart from that.”

“Okay,” Kurt’s head falls back against the bed. “I’m banning all mention of Ms. Berry from the bedroom for the foreseeable future.”

“You did bring her up,” Blaine trails his fingers across Kurt’s bicep, “But I’m willing to agree to the terms, under one condition.”

Kurt eyes him. “And what’s that?”

“When we get our second wind,” Blaine walks his fingers up across Kurt’s shoulder, down across his chest, still blush red, “And we _will_ get our second wind,” he looks up through his eyelashes at Kurt, pouts a little, “You make this one last?”

“Oh, baby, you can count on it,” Kurt murmurs, and leans in to kiss him again.


	23. year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt and blaine ring in the new year.

When Kurt falls onto the couch beside him, having finally exhausted their daughter, Blaine barely has the strength to lift the remote and switch the channel from reruns of  _ Law & Order _ to the New Year countdown.

“Is she out?” he asks, and Kurt groans. “Yeah. It only took three rounds of  _ Goodnight, Moon _ , five of  _ Skippyjon Jones _ and two of  _ Guess How Much I Love You _ before she crashed.”

“Is she still feeling nervous?” Joy had gotten separated from them in the crowd for a few seconds today, and it had rattled all four of them, Pepper included.

“Yeah,” Kurt rubs his eyes, “I want to mention it to her shrink next week.”

Blaine pulls his socked feet up onto the couch and leans up against Kurt’s side. “I should have kept hold of her hand.”

“No self blaming here,” Kurt reaches up and runs his fingers through the short hair at the back of Blaine’s head, “We both lost sight of her for a moment.”

“Thank god for Pepper,” Blaine says softly. Joy liked to hold Pepper’s leash when they walked, and it was her grey hindquarters disappearing through the crowd that had alerted both of them.

As if by magic, Pepper appears by the couch, stares expectantly at them until Blaine shifts sideways, halfway onto Kurt’s lap, so she can climb up and curl herself into a ball beside them.

“Good girl,” he tells her, and she wags her tail a couple times, eyes already closed.

Kurt pats his lap. “C’mon. You know she’s going to want to spread out in a moment, might as well give her the space.”

“Mm,” Blaine stands for a moment so Kurt can turn sideways on the couch, making space for Blaine to sit on his lap properly. He settles, head against Kurt’s chest, and yawns as he watches Mariah Carey perform.

“Remember when we went to the ball drop?” Kurt asks, “I’m pretty sure my toes nearly fell off.”

Blaine laughs. “Kissing you at midnight was worth it.”

“Kissing you is always worth it,” Kurt says, taking Blaine’s hand.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Blaine tilts his head back and says, “Any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Hmm,” Kurt lays his cheek against the top of Blaine’s head, “Spend more time with my family. Drink less coffee. Brush Pepper’s teeth like the vet keeps asking me to. You?”

Blaine sighs. “I don’t know. I feel like life’s perfect, you know?”

Kurt’s quiet for a moment, and Blaine nudges his head against Kurt’s. “Sweetie?”

“No, I’m not disagreeing,” Kurt squeezes him tighter, “I’m not disagreeing, I’m just happy. You know? I’m happy that my New Year’s resolutions are the stupid things you read in advice columns.”

“Like trying a juice cleanse or starting zumba.”

“Exactly,” his husband nuzzles his cheek, “Exactly. It’s like I’m living the dream.”

“Mm,” Blaine smiles, “A husband. A kid. A dog. New Year’s resolution: get a white picket fence?”

“Rainbow picket, thank you very much,” Kurt murmurs, yawning loudly, “I need to maintain my brand.”

“Fully agree,” Blaine says, closing his eyes, “Wanna take a nap before the ball drops?”

“Yeah,” Kurt tugs the blanket flung over the back of the couch over them, “Wake me up when the countdown starts.”

Blaine knows full well that they’ll both be fast asleep and even the screaming associated with ringing in the new year won’t be able to wake them. But honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	24. zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt and blaine have a friendly competition.

“Hey,” Kurt whispers, “You awake?”

Blaine cracks one eye open, comfortably nestled against his husband’s side in Kurt’s ridiculously big childhood bed. “Mm. But not for long.”

“Everyone’s asleep,” Kurt’s fingers trail along Blaine’s collarbone, “Wanna mess around?”

Blaine opens both eyes, props himself up on one elbow and says, probably louder than the offer warrants, “You want to take me to the bone zone in your childhood bed?”

“ _ Shh! _ ” Kurt presses a finger to his lips, “Not so loud! And do you have to call it that?”

“Okay,” Blaine says, “You want us to fuck in your childhood bed?”

“Oh, that’s worse,” Kurt shakes his head, “Now you say it like that it sounds kind of dirty.”

Blaine snickers. “Sorry. I had to.”

Kurt huffs, falling back on the mountain of pillows. “You don’t want to mess around?”

“I didn’t say that,” Blaine slips his hand under Kurt’s pajama shirt, trails his fingers back and forth across his lower abdomen, “I didn’t say that at all.”

Kurt’s eyebrows lift. “So you  _ do? _ ”

“You don’t think it’s kind of weird?” Blaine feels Kurt’s abs tense as his fingers brush the waistband of his pants, “Seducing your husband? In your childhood home?”

“Well,” Kurt says, smiling, “I don’t know if you’ve seen him, but my husband is pretty hot.”

“Oh, of course,” Blaine grins, “Of course, he must be. But still.”

“Well,” Kurt shifts onto his side and leans in close, “We’re twenty seven.”

“Speak for yourself,  _ I _ am twenty six.”

“We are in our mid to late twenties,” Kurt amends, flicking Blaine lightly on the arm, “We’re married. And we are… very much in love.”

“True,” Blaine admits. Kurt’s eyes are hooded, and he very obviously drags his gaze down Blaine’s torso before making eye contact again.

“Does that not seem like excellent reasoning,” he slides his hand over Blaine’s waist, rubs his thumb over his hipbone, “To make the most of a quiet night and an equally as quiet husband?”

Blaine snorts. “Me? Quiet? Kurt, sweetie, I don’t know who you’ve been having sex with -”

“Well,” Kurt says, smirking, “You can be quiet when you have something in your mouth.”

Blaine tries not to show how hot it is when Kurt  _ says _ stuff like that. “Is that an offer?”

“Absolutely not,” Kurt says, “I want to see how quiet you really can be.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine murmurs, “Coming from you, Mr I-can’t-keep-my-mouth-shut-when- _ Blaine’s _ -mouth-is-on-my -”

“ _ Okay _ , okay,” Kurt offers his hand out, “How about a friendly competition between husbands.”

“Inform me of the terms,” Blaine grins, “I’m intrigued.”

“If you can go,” Kurt checks his watch, “Five minutes without saying a  _ single _ word, I will deep clean the entire kitchen when we get home.”

“Deal,” Blaine says seriously, “But only if you throw in snaking the shower drain, you know I hate doing that.”

“Deal,” Kurt says, “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes. Starting?”

“Now,” Kurt says, and dives under the covers.

(Blaine lasts about thirty seconds. But Kurt cleans the kitchen anyway. That’s what love is all about.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *griffin mcelroy voice* WELCOME! TO THE BONE ZONE!


End file.
